


Starlight and Cinders

by Kureiji_Kurai



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Desolation of Smaug, Dragon Sherlock, Dragonlock, Elf Molly, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hobbit/Sherlock Crossover, Magic, Possessive Behavior, Sacrifice, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smauglock, Spoilers for Desolation of Smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:10:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2412770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kureiji_Kurai/pseuds/Kureiji_Kurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dangerous dragon resides in Erebor and everyone is in danger as long as he is alive.  Some simply hope that he will sleep until the end of the world upon his horde but others fear that he will rain fire once again.  How might anyone avoid such a fate?  Traditionally, aren't sacrifices offered to Dragons?</p><p>A beautiful young elf visiting from Rivendell seems the best choice to offer the terrible Smaug.  </p><p>The humans intend to feed her to the dragon as a gift to pacify him but nothing with dragons or elves could ever be as simple as they seem on the surface.  The beauty as well as the beast might surprise everyone in Middle-Earth because neither are exactly what they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I basically wanted to play off the very typical maiden thrown to the dragon but spin it my own way and give it my own strange twists. The players are 'Sacrificial Molly' and the villainous 'Dragon Smaug/Dragonlock' for this fic. Molly is shy and kind but she is not without her dangerous side, she is also not a human in this fic for that very reason. I'll explain more as we go as to reasons things are as they are. The story is Sherlolly/Smaolly if anyone wants to know.
> 
> Molly changes to Muilë in Elvish. It was as close as it would get. My timeline puts her just a little older than Arewn (little by elven time).
> 
> Listened to Black Blade by Two Steps From Hell

***In Starlight and Cinders***

**Silence**

_*Tolkein_

_Smaug_

_*BBC Sherlock_

_Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)_

* * *

Navigating the dark halls had become progressively easier once the lithe little creature had passed over the colossal gates, or what once had been and now were no more than masses of fallen iron and stone. Keen, nervous brown eyes searched the halls for signs of motion, listening intently with her sensitized pointed ears for the smallest hint of breathing or scales catching over tiles.

Looking upon a shattered city, the crumbled statues, shattered walls, and ravaged skeleton of a once pristine Erebor had nearly turned the elleth back. Worse still had been the sight of scattered armor she knew once housed the flesh and bone of men and dwarf, only time and fire having turned what once was flesh and life back to dust.

The sight of death did not frighten her, no, for she had seen much of it in her relatively short life. The battles of men, dwarf, and elf had come and gone, Dagorlad having claimed the life of her father scant months before her birth, her mother following mere thousand years later. Her elder brother had fallen in battle as well long after. The sight of death was no surprise but it saddened her to see the waste of so many, all returned to the earth before their time.

The flowing skirts of her gown drifted lazily over the steps behind her as she climbed deeper into the gilded caverns. Had she the gift of foresight and seen that she would brave the dungeons of a fallen city rather than returning to the shining and sheltered courts of Rivendell, Muilë would have chosen far different attire.

She was fair, as fair as her people always were, but just a little more so and not well fit for such things as a Sinda or Silvan elf. The abundant flowing sleeves and skirts of silk were common among her kin but unwise for burrowing into the earth. Her long and flowing honeyed silk hair might have been best plaited, the silver circlet atop her head best left in her rooms, but she was to meet this under-earth tyrant so she saw no point now in being less a lady. It was too late to alter any of it anyway the moment she met the humans.

Entry had been given her for nothing more than a song, the magia woven into her every note provided her with the direction, guiding her inside where none but an elf could potentially travel. Once beyond the sharp shards of rock and littering fragments of metal where the old stone was smoothed by careful crafting, she removed her boots. Silence was of great value when seeking out such a beast, seeking while hoping not to find.

The high dome above and massive arches, pillars, terraces and layers of a well crafted but forgotten city were her pathway. So vast they were, these halls, made all the more huge by the fact that there were none to occupy the space. After so much time she had expected it to seem different, colder, with the fires and bellows long dead, perhaps. There was no chill in the air now that she was deep within the halls, it was nearing the torrid side of warm and she was quite sure that had to do with the lone occupant. The lingering scent of smoke and flames surprised her more than the heat considering the destruction of Erebor was nearing a thing of legend in the minds of so many, especially humans for it had been something nearing a century or just past it by their count.

Even so, the air still smelled of ash and smoke so potent it nearly buckled her knees. The absolute terror was quite consuming the farther she ventured into the grand halls. The nimble elf moved with far more care, expecting the great and terrible dragon around each and every corner.

Doubt over the wisdom in her consent to enter these halls was mounting with each step Muilë took. She had her reasons and they were many, some spoken and others held close as a secret she might take to her death. The humans begged her to go in their place, pleaded with her to make this treacherous journey with their gift the keep Smaug at bay. Had she not come, one of them would have ventured here.  Not that she did not also understand their likely underlying motives for sending her, because she was not so foolish as to miss it.

Having an elf walk into this place was ill fated enough, a human a hundred times more so. They swore that a deal had been made with this dragon, a deal saying they were to pay him with any wealth they could find every hundred years in exchange for their continued living. It sounded dubious at best but she could not leave them to try it alone, her too-large heart would not allow it. She did not relish the thought of them blundering into this place with clanking boots either, so here she now walked, pouches tucked into her belt. She had her own reasons as well, reasons deeper than her mercy.

The ruby, she would admit, was impressive for size alone for it was the size of the hand. The diamonds less so, but still a weighty offering. How it would make any difference to a creature that held the treasury of Erebor was a little beyond her for it seemed a useless thing to add such small things. Smaug could hardly need these trifles but if he had indeed promised the humans this, she would try. If he was not awake, the humans said she was allowed to leave as she had come for the dragon would never know.

Tell of dragons sleeping for four hundred years or six hundred years once they settled were widely known. True or not, they gave comfort to all. The hibernating beasts could do no damage and so she hoped it to be true. She knew little of dragons and there were few even among elves that knew enough to be useful, so she could only hope. Were he sleeping, her task would be simple.

This section of Durin's castle could have fooled her into believing nothing was amiss for the rich, lavish and heavy tapestries still hung proudly upon the walls and tables still stood as they should. If not for the pile of charred and partly melted suits of armor at the foot of the stairs nearest her, she might have been fooled.

Silence was as thick as the stench and she found it nearly a crippling sound; the lack. It made the sudden clink of metal inexplicably loud to her over sensitized ears and her eyes darted to the ground where a gold coin stood beside her bare foot. Where in all the realm had it come from and why had it chosen this moment to fall? Her earth toned eyes slowly traveled upward to see what above her could possibly have shifted.

Elves were well known to hold emotions close and show little reaction, facing most things with even resolve. None of that hindered her eyes from widening, gentle sloping jaw from going slack as she gazed up at what perched upon the high pillars. The world absolutely shattered around her, the heart in her chest stopping cold, mind stuttering to a useless frozen mass inside her skull. Two more coins crashed to the floor but this time they went utterly unnoticed. Though she had seen much, she had never seen the like of such a creature from legend.

For a fleeting moment she hoped the massive scaled creature was sleeping but the hope was dashed when she saw gleaming, fire tinted, cat-like eyes staring down a long and thick snout. That elongated neck craned to the side, shifting weight between the thick beams as it watched the well trapped prey below. In the wildest of dreams, the little elleth could not have prepared to bare witness to his immense size but also the strange nobility in his clearly innate power ridden body.

As if disconnecting from bone, one muscle at a time began to release the tight coils and her body slowly withered down to the ground quite of its own will until she was on her knees, still staring up; gaze locked onto those smoldering orange a gold fleck eyes as they studied her form. Her world began to fade into blackness and she wondered if she had been killed where she stood by the heat of his eyes alone, but she was yet living.  
Oh, yes, of course! She did have to remember to breathe. How long had she held her breath? Since the coin fell?

"Smaug..." The word was on her lips like that of a dying elleth as her eyes traveled over the incredible mass of crimson and rust scale hide over mountains of muscle. Though the sheer size of him had to be unmatched, his clawing, soul-shredding eyes were most frightening. They gave her the instant impression that he could look into her very thoughts, to her being, and have every answer he sought, which was what truly struck terror within her.

Once those eyes had searched her, judged her, read her on every level, nostrils flaring, he seemed to pass some sort of judgment, "You are of Rivendell." The resonating, pure molten gold voice of the deepest base shook her down to her toes with it's quiet force; he had not shouted, only speaking calmly in a tone of declaration rather than inquiry. The landslide, animalistic glottal rumble at the end felt like it sent waves through her.

Muilë nodded mutely until fear suddenly pricked inside her mind, "You are correct, b-but they did not send me. I-I c-came on behalf..." Wait, that might sound like they sent her to do a different deed, "I was sent-" that sounded worse, "the humans of...of..." Her mind raced coming up suddenly an absolute blank of information, unable to think of a single letter in the name, utterly lost and quite frantic, "the humans once belonging to-" it came to her in a flash at last and she nearly shouted the word, "Dale! They told me you required-"

"A _**sacrifice**_?" The sonorous tone of his voice cut her off, piercing her with the words like an arrow to the chest, enormous head canting inquisitively.

"I might have used ' _negotiator_ ,' but at it's base, perhaps the means lead to the same ultimate end in some regard." The horror of his few words managed to shock her into a full thought spoken correctly but the clarity soon vanished when the armored, slightly pointed ridge of his brow arched, "Not t-that I meant to insinuate such e-end...results are necessary. I am c-confident we m-might reach a more a-agreeable-"

"On the contrary, I would find your first illation _quite_ agreeable, elfling." The long caudal spines jointed along the base of his skull and neck shifted upward in a similar fashion as ears on another animal might.

Now that quite sealed her abject lack of coherent articulation, "W-w-w..." She stopped herself to make another try, "I-I do not bel-ieve I s-share the sentiment."

That statement gained her a raise of both brow ridges as well as a very distinct upturn at the corners of that dangerous mouth, several horrifically viscous looking teeth peeking from under his lips. "The sentiment is not shared by a valiant elleth of Rivendell?" His nostrils flared, eyes sweeping her, "Child to a... Noldorin father and mother of the Finarfin clan... Contrary to your disagreement, I think it a _fine_ idea.

Smaug continued, his every word dripping with lofty pride, a short glottal rumble sounding like a purr signaling how pleased he was with his own deductions, "To die by my claws would be an honorable end, especially considering you entered knowing it to be a potential fate, yet entered anyway in a misguided attempt to protect lesser beings from my _wrath_ and **ruin**." His shoulder readjusted, scales shifting as he lowered one front clawed foot beside her, the unimaginable size beside her nearly making her drop the rest of the way to the ground in desperate hopes of vanishing, "They _plead_ their case to you and you, a creature with more mercy and kindness hidden in your frame than you have _right_ to possess, took it clearly upon yourself to play their **_savior_**...all the while, hoping I would not notice the entry of one _small_ elf."

Prepared or not for this creature she was well aware that she must regain herself. Neither she nor the humans would survive this if she could not gain back her wits. There was a bit too much riding on her shoulders for her to falter after she had come so far. She had to gain her center.

There was little she could really do in the face of such a creature so Muilë did not bother to defend herself, she had no such recourse against the dragon so she chose another path, "How did you know all of those things? Scent could tell you some aspects, but not all of them." She lifted her chin, finding her courage at last now that her curiosity had been peaked, "How did you know my mother was Finarfin rather than my father?"

If the slight arch of his neck, or narrowing of his vertical slit pupils could be considered an indicator of surprise was hard to quantify at this point but he answered all the same. "Your mannerisms are distinctly Noldorin which would indicate you were mainly raised among them and the majority of that race reside in Rivendell. However, your coloring is slightly lighter to indicate a mixture. Your gentle speech and over abundance of mercy toward humans coupled with the fact that you carry no weapons to enter a dragon's den and carry none with you even on long journeys speaks to your pacifistic nature which was always a far _abundant_ trait of Finarfin elves. You were nurtured and taught by the one of Finarin, thus your mother, but dwelt with Noldor, thus your father brought her to his lands; few of the fair Finrod's children came so far but for marriage."

"But I do carry a weapon." Her fear had been placated by her interest and the realization that she had found a weakness in her adversary; his love to flaunt his knowledge and wit.

"Strapped to the saddles of your mount, _rarely_ ever strapped to your belt - there are no marks there where the sword would be. The bow your fingers are more use to is also with your beast. You rely on your own speed and the speed of your horse to keep out of danger."

"Perhaps I simply changed belts? Perhaps my father was a Sinda and my mother a Noldo he met when he sought refuge in Rivendell? Perhaps I am not merciful but merely easily enticed by the prospect of seeing one of that last Dragons and needed little prompting to sway. What use is a sword against a mighty dragon?" She persisted, carefully testing him.

Smaug did indeed smile as he eyed her, shifting his body fully to the ground with her, one paw at a time, "I think _not_. You **_forget_** that my senses are a _hundred times_ as keen as even an elfling such as you. My deductions are aided by the smallest hints of scents, sounds, vibrations; _anything_ can betray all to me." He bent his head until his snout was just in front of her, "I **_feel_** each time your heart beats faster or slows down, indicating your lies or when I find truth."

His breath was not as hot as she expected it to be when it wafted around her but it smelled of metal, smoke and a bit of sulfur. "I see, so you decide it all based on what you see as well as the feelings and impressions you glean." It suddenly struck her that she was on her feet again, facing him and nearly challenging him; her heart did speed in a sudden spike that had him smirking again.

"I do _so_ enjoy the company of elves... they are always entertaining. Not predictable the way humans or dwarfs would be." He mused in a slow, contemplative drawl.

She had a task. Her fingers quickly found the pouches at her belt, seeing no reason to prolong the encounter, "I come with gifts from the humans."

Those huge eyes narrowed, "Now you are being more predictable."

She ignored his words in favor of following the first task at hand, "These things they offer you, as ruler under the mountain, as termed in your verbal agreement with them. They pay you homage now."

He watched her as she spread open the pouches, placing the jewels on the ground at his feet, "Very well." The pause in his speech dragged on as he eyed her carefully, "Though, what would you say if I deemed you as part of the sacrifice? Would you offer your life _freely_ in place of theirs? The past often tells of messengers being the first casualties of war."

"I should hope we are not at war, but rather that this is simply a further sign of peace, an assurance that you have been recognized as the ruler of Erebor." In this, her words had been chosen with care, eyes lowered to the floor as she spoke to ensure her nerve held steady.

A deep, low rumble vibrated somewhere in his chest, "You were _indeed_ raised by Noldorin." His eyes turned then to the gifts, studying them for some time, deciding upon their value, perhaps, "Retrieve them." His words were clearly an order rather than a request, and she found herself obediently scooping them back into the pouches.

"Do-do you reject them, my lord?" Calling him such a thing was difficult but she knew well enough that her only potential to salvage any part of this peace was to stroke that obviously massive ego, "Might you not reconsider? It might not be as grand as your treasury but-"

"I shall accept this offering on one condition." Smaug shifted, slightly low-slung body beginning to turn his back to her, "Follow me." The incredibly orotund voice was an authority she could not have refused had she wanted to, which she only partly did.

If she was honest, her body giving away the truth of it with the slight trembling, she was utterly terrified. There was something else within her though, an interest she could not shake from the confines of her mind. Dragons were known to be enticing, magical in their own way, the same as her own kind. It crossed her mind that her shifting to follow him so quickly, instinctively, was more than her desire to placate him.

There was something about him that captivated as well as petrified her. It was like some sort of luring dark goeteia such as Sauron was known to uses to terrify and subjugate. Perhaps this dragon used something similar. Such magic did not normally work against elves but perhaps his was powerful enough to bewitch her. She could not deny the thrill of being near this creature of legend, one so few saw and lived to speak of.

"If it please you, what conditions do you stipulate?" The svelte little elf, so very small in the face of this intimidating creature, was very afraid to ask the question yet she had to know it.

His body faced the other direction, moving him into a hallway, but that long neck turned his head back to look at her on her level as she moved in at his side, "What is your name, my little elleth, _if I may ask_?"

The question took her back as much as the commanding tone that testified to anything but the politeness of his words, "The humans seem intent to call me 'Molly.'"

Those massive shoulders shifted him further back her direction, wings clamped tightly to his sides, as he gracefully curled his body until he was mainly facing her, his long tail coiled around behind her to prevent her from turning to flee, "Really?" He smiled now, something kin to good humor, " _Interesting._ What do your kind call you then?"

The column of her throat tensed as she stared up into his strangely stunning eyes, knowing she was tempting death by answering, "I am called Muilë."

Watching as closely as she was, she noticed the odd way that his eyes softened, "Muilë... it is a pleasure." He turned again to prowl forward, leading her further in, tail still coiled carefully behind her, deadly spines close enough to touch if the desire stuck her.

The little elleth followed silently. There was little else she could do for the time being. There was a bit more to the story than she had told him and more than he had guessed, so she could not yet leave. Her choices were limited and all aspects of them now hinged upon the dragon so deceptively peaceful before her. His being awake changed everything and she could no longer leave as she hoped to.

Smaug the magnificent truly did have her trapped by way of many more aspects than he himself might perceive at this point. She could only hope she would be able to hold her own head and outwit him. The task, matching wits with a dragon, was a daunting one but she would not back away. He was right about her in some respects. She was of Noldor, raised in Rivendell, and she would live or die within this kingdom with honor. However, he should not have counted her a pacifist so soon. There was a single aspect of her that the dragon had missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tolkien has all the beings in his books with "magic" of some kind or level. The good side and bad side has the abilities generally called magia or goeteia. Singing and music is commonly a form of it with the elves, a form of use.
> 
> And a bit of music for you on this is Daniel in the Den by Bastille.


	2. Gold or Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bamf 'Sacrificial Molly' and frustrated 'Dragon Smaug/Dragonlock' for you.
> 
> Little music would be King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men.

***In Starlight and Cinders***

**Gold or Ash**

*Tolkein

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

 

The cobblestone beneath the elleth's bare feet was gelid compared to the warmth of the air around her. The energy rolling from the great dragon's form was all heat pushing against her oppressively. Even when his eyes were not focused on her he was still overwhelming because he was somehow everywhere at once. Her silken, straight honey hair brushed lightly over her shoulders as she walked, keeping step with her immense and looming guide. He walked slowly for her benefit, though it was doubtful it was out of the goodness of his heart.

Muilë's lissome frame was stiff with the excess tension, each step a slow and cautious progress. She was careful to make no move too few and none too many. When walking beside a mighty predator beyond the nightmares of most dark nights, it seemed wise to take particular care.

Lingering beside him as she was, that dangerous tail rendering the desire to flee moot, she had the opportunity to study the creature. He was not unlike the mountain himself; skin like the stone towering all around them, sharp edges and plains to his chiseled face, stiff structure as unyielding as any mountain, but beautiful in a similar way as the carved work that made up the castle. The intensity burning in his eyes could melt her where she stood, staggeringly intelligent and clever, a dark perfection of a blade sharp and dangerous mind. It would take more than a few tricks to fell this beast.

Looking at him so closely, in his majestic and untamed beauty, she could not deny he seemed as much a king as many she had seen under the same banner. The danger in his power only made him seem more worthy, a far greater opponent than she would have guessed before setting her dark eyes upon him. Once it came time to act, she would do battle here with no drooling beast or Orc.

Of all she had heard of the draconic king under the mountain, she had not been expecting his intelligence to be the thing she most feared and revered about him. He was dangerous in his intense power, formidable as any army, but his intelligence amplified the ferocity of him.

The hallway opened suddenly and her steps hitched when her eyes branched over the expanse and she realized at last where he lead her. Her chocolate eyes went wide as they took in the unending hills of treasure; gold in every form, jewels flowing freely like leaves scattered on the ground in the chaining seasons; a true mountain on its own, more than she had ever seen in one place before. It was so vast she doubted it could ever be counted, just like the stars in a night sky. She knew Thrór held a massive treasury but she had never witnessed it personally and it was indeed a staggering sight to behold. Thranduil had been correct in his warnings; such greed as she saw stretched before her was bound to call down the fire it had, it was inevitable.

"Does it impress you?" Smaug's voice seeped into her with the low and smooth tone, only seeming deeper with the edge placed upon it now; though it was hard to tell why it sounded rougher than before at this point.

"In the halls of elves, men, and dwarf, I have seen many things..." She allowed her eyes to travel up, finding his eye turned to her even though he still only offered his profile, "but I concede that I am..." The elleth struggled for an accurate description of the feeling it gave her, "bewildered."

The spiked ridge of his brow lifted, "Bewildered?" He repeated, "Why do you say this?"

Her eyes fell to the floor, unsure her thoughts on such issue were wise to give voice in current company, "I simply see no purpose in..." she splayed a hand toward the treasury, "all of this. Gathered as it is, it serves none; not kings - save for posterity perhaps - nor kingdom."

"Ahh..." The dome of his head dipped, "You think he should have used his wealth to better his people." A lazy laugh drifted into the air along with a slight trickle of smoke from his nostrils. "What you fail to see is that man and dwarf alike would do nothing but squander this, deplete it needlessly in their greed."

"Is hording it a lesser form of greed than using it to ensure the prosperity of a kingdom's people? It is a cold, useless thing if used only to gather dust." Her tongue forced the words free before she could stop them but she refused to flinch.

"I do not think it useless, nor would I part with it for the betterment of fools _unworthy_ of breath and life. They are all mindless _insects_ with little to no potential for usefulness. If they can do not for themselves, they deserve to waist away. In this, the dwarf king and I agree." That low, unearthly growling rumble vibrated in his chest and she closed her eyes as she felt it roll. "But our conversation has digressed."

It took her a moment to force her eyes to open again, "So it would seem."

"Now, about this offering the humans have sent you with," he eased forward, front claws sinking into the mounds of gold coins like they were water opening for him, "how much did they tell you of our 'bargain'?"

Muilë rolled her shoulders back into a stance of determination, not intent to shrink a second time before him, "They told me you, having come out to hunt some time ago, landed in their settlement. A deal was struck between Dale's past ruler and yourself stating that they must pay great homage, their greatest wealth, to you for every hundred years you ruled in the Lonely Mountain."

Smaug's tail coiled behind her but she sensed it moving, "What  _more_  did they say?"

"Very little." The dragon was fishing and she knew exactly what he was seeking but something in her refused to give it.

The rumble returned as he lowered his head to her level, shifting his body into the sea of coins to face her and she noted that he sank a portion in height once he was standing properly in his horde. "Did they also tell you my conditions? Did they inform you that I stipulated no human was to bring the offering, for I despise humans and their blundering inerrant foolishness?" His eyes were sharp and burning as he studied her, "Did you once feel their lack of any intention to allow you to refuse their pleading? Had you any hint that they would not allow you to leave if you had indeed refused to play a willing sacrifice?"

Her head tipped elegantly in a nod, allowing not a hint of reaction to enter her features, only calm acceptance, "I suspected they would attempt to hinder a refusal on my part, though I did not know it was due to your own stipulation."

"So you simply accepted the fate rather than be forced to participate in a ritual without choice." The self-congratulatory expression depicting his assurance of his own deductions.

His eyelid twitched when she spoke next, "No, that was not my reasoning, my lord. Escape was quite possible for I am no bungling Orc, however they would eventually have found one to take my place. Rather than subject another to this, kill sons of men needlessly, or risk a human blundering into your lair, I made the logical decision and entered Erebor."

"You understood the implications and yet you foolishly accepted? Heeding their selfish pleading for a rescuer?" He sounded incredulous and oddly surprised if not irritated.

"I do not begrudge their attempts. All with love of their kin seek to protect the lives they care for any way they must."

The depths of that laugh nearly made the mountain tremble, "Sentiment... yes." His burning eyes felt cold as he gazed at her, "The weakness that brought you to be trapped in the boules of a kingdom and a dragon king, waiting to die." The vicious smile was no different from the edge in his voice, "Sentiment is not a strength."

She tipped her head in concession, "Perhaps so..." Her pause had his attention as he waited for her to finish the thought, "but if we care for nothing and are willing to risk nothing for the life of another, then none will care to risk anything for our sake. What value have we in our own existence then? All things turn to dust save what our actions leave behind and the memory of our existence... good or bad, our mark on the world is all we can leave behind."

"Spoken like a true Finarfin." He rumbled a laugh, "Do not the elves all return to the Valar? How can you speak of leaving marks on a world you never belonged to?"

"I am here, thus my life marks it. Lives affect all that they touch regardless of where they are. My mark is no less deep than the ones born to Middle-Earth, no less deep than your mark, however different those marks may be."

Those huge eyes narrowed to menacing slits, "Do you presume to mock me or shame me for my paths, for my conquests?"

"I presume nothing, my lord, I merely sought to answer your question." She tipped her chin up to meet his gaze more fully, "Though, if you loath humans so, why did you accept the offer of sacrifice?"

That massive frame grew even more tense, it seemed, as he starred at her with the intensity capable of melting the mountain itself, but then that dark expression shifted, a smirk twisting his lips. "I must admit, it has been a very long while since I tasted the  _flesh_  of elf. You are all so  _evasive_ , slithering through the thickest of branches and sliding into such  _tiny_  spaces that you are difficult to  **catch**. You use speed and heightened reflexes to escape me, a little like  _mice_  scurrying into the  _ground_."

The intent to insult her kind was abundantly obvious, threaded into every piece of information he gave as well as his tone. Comparing them to vermin was intended to insinuate cowardice. It was intended to strike fear into her as well, but mainly, it was a diversion of some sort. She was not so blind to tactics like those as he seemed to think. Was she not an elf? "Did you stipulate an elf bring you the offering or would any other race have sufficed?"

Smaug's growl rumbled once again, his chest puffing out, "I would also have accepted a dwarf for I could have enjoyed tormenting them endlessly before I finally grew tired of it and devoured the vassal."

Muilë had no intention of giving up her probing since the answer seemed one he was unwilling to offer, "What is your reason for accepting one of my kin?"

His muzzle nearly brushed against her as he narrowed on her, "Your kin interest me, I suppose. Does it matter? Would it change your fate?"

"I do not yet know. I am sure only you could give answer to that, my lord, for this is your kingdom."

"You are correct, elfling. I control all aspects of your fate now." If it were possible, his posture straightened further, "I control the fate of all this realm and the reaching realms. You, your kin, sons of men and dwarf, all hinge upon my whim!" The elleth watched him carefully, studying his every expression, "All survive on my mercy."

Muilë's shoulders dropped only slightly, the slightest reaction, but she knew he noticed as keenly as she noticed his inflation, "Be sure, we are all quite aware of your power, Smaug. We know of your mercy, or your  _lack_...we understand the shifting sand of your  _moods_  which we stand upon." She was feeding his ego as well as insulting him in her every word, balancing between the two in her frustration, "We are aware that the world is precariously balanced over the tipping power sources. You, great king under the mountain, are well known to be a force to be revered."

The muscles in his scaled face shifted as he studied her with a carefulness another being might study a problem as a child, seeking answers they were unsure they could find. "Is this what you say or are these the words of your desperate leaders?"

"They are both...but I might say more." She allowed her eyes to cloud, letting him see just a hint of her anger.

"Is it wise, in light of where you stand, to speak words of any potential to anger or try the mercy extended you thus far?" He was still studying her with a carefulness she was seldom the subject of.

The elf graced him with a smile, hints of her darkness only bleeding into the expression in drops, "Perhaps not."

His smirk in return hid no darkness and it took him a moment to answer, "I might be too lenient, bored with the silence I am frequently surrounded with, but I believe I shall let you speak."

"That too could be unwise of you, for I am known to hold strong opinions of my own if I choose to speak them." She was a fool if nothing else but she was quite sure she would not last long in the dark crevasses of the cave were she to allow him to frighten her as she could so easily. He wanted conversation or she would already be dead, he desired to be intrigued.

He tipped hid head to acknowledge the potentially true statement, a sly grin curving his lips as he waited to see what she might do next.

"Very well." The elf let her feet move her in small circles as she spoke to seem unconcerned, "I believe you to be quite powerful, but as an elf, I have seem much of the cycles of strength. You are concerned with nothing but treasure and power, a bit like Thrór, as you already admitted, which is dangerous."

"Is it?" He purred her direction, low and dangerous, but she felt the need to persist in the interest of her own intentions.

"Breeding such has already proven the folly of loving too well what is cold and lifeless, of allowing greed to eat the mind away to nothing." Her eyes turned pointedly up to his, "We all know how it ended for Thrór, do we not?"

"He was a fool." Smaug's caudal spines shifted up, bristling.

Her stare did not shift, "Yes." She said pointedly, "He was. And if he was, what does that make the dragon walking the same path?"

There was no time to react, none to escape as his tail flicked like a snake strike, faster than she could have expected a creature so large to be able. She was nimbly struck and tossed in one stunning motion. Her body flew back, the cracking sound of her tiny frame connecting with the ornate dwarf throne muffled by the vicious snarl released into the air from his throat. The elleth gasped, her head aching from the rough connect, eyes wide as light flashed in her vision. Gravity slid her down into the seat of the throne as she swayed, hands moving instinctively to the arms of it still stained in blood from a battle so long ago. Her spine tingled with licks of fire running up and down her body. Her side already screamed protest where the end of his tail connected and she was forced to take only tiny breaths as it subsided.

"Do not  _presume_  so much for I have no  _appreciation_  for being called a fool or being compared to a Dwarf!" His voice sounded more husky, lilting in tone, and raw with anger than she thought possible. " **You,**   _elf_ , will not look down upon  _me_  nor my choices! I am no  _fool_ ,  **I**  will  _not_  be  _plucked_  from my place as  **king**   _under the mountain!_  You, my beautiful  _sacrifice_ , have been pressing my patience! My lenience can only stretch so far!"

Her eyes did not lift from the floor as she struggled from her seated position on a stolen throne to regain herself and tamp down the pain. If she tried to stand she was aware that she would be unsteady and thus she remained as she was. Her breathing was already easing though as the pain ebbed. Her spine and side throbbed but she shifted enough to test their wholeness and found them intact.

New fear tickled up her neck as she let her mind work it all over carefully. Her earth tone eyes drifted up to look into his face, hardly able to hide the shock within them.

The blow would have snapped the spine of a human like so many dry twigs but it would merely bruise a creature such as herself. That fact was what had her staring in wide eyed wonder, pure terror tightening her throat with the unpleasantness of fingers wringing her breath from her. Try as she might, the shaking crept into her limbs with a relentless build. The self same creature that destroyed an entire kingdom, bringing its abundant inhabitants to a state of desecration, had struck her with the draconic equivalent of a sword or javelin, and he only did so hard enough to sting. That kind of control, that intense restraint was more than impressive. Worse was the fact that he knew with such precision what her body could endure, not exceeding it, simply skimming the edge, that meant he understood more about her peoples physicality than he revealed.

Muilë had felt the rippling power in the blow, but also his restraint, his lack of desire to do actual and tangible damage.

He struck her, but in absolutely nothing more than the lightest of warning. As she scooted herself into a proper sitting position, she could not remove her wide eyes from his form, nor did he seem interested in ceasing his scrutiny of her. In a single nudge, he told her more of his power than his boasting ever would have, and the elleth was honestly cowed despite her effort not to be.

His flame colored eyes watched her in animalistic scrutiny reserved for and projected by only the most worthy of all Hunters, only killers worthy of their placement on the scales of nature.

"I see I spoke more freely than you cared for." She managed to produce, her lips ill prepared to form eloquent words and the little composure she might have depicted was betrayed by her following shaky breath.

"Was my chastisement for your boldness too harsh? You appear to have lost what little color your skin produced." The caudal spine along his skull shifted again as he arched his head lower to scrutinize her. "I might remember to heed your warnings in the future when you alert me to your freedom of speech."

"No, I am unharmed by such a light t touch. As we established, I am no fragile mortal." Terrified or not, she refused to utterly cower before him, refused for the sake of her pride and kin to show more weakness to him than she could prevent. The tongue could hold firm where her courage could do nothing but crawl into a corner. The illusion of courage was all she was left with but she would not let it be banished.

Shivers ran through her entire form when his voice dropped lower still, sinking into a depths that was more vibration of sound than real words, "You cannot  _fool_  me,  _she elf,_  for I can smell your  _terror_. You think you can hide the sound of a heart trembling in your chest? I  _hear_  the change in your breathing pattern, the  _fright_  induced increase and shortness of  _each_  intake." The chuckle was hardly more than a quake to jar the ground as he shifted close enough for her to feel his breath slither around her. The heat drew her mind instantly the the flames he could be showering her in and was yet to bring.

Her body stiffened against the back of the throne, chin lifting in stubborn determination, "Presumption in the case of elves is often where others first falter. Do not presume to know the mind of my kin nor of me. Indeed, you are mighty and more cunning than most, but the same can be spoken of Edhel." Muilë was only too aware of the potential failure she faced here, and if she fell, she would not drag her entire race down with her. They could not afford to lose the respect of the drake when little else might hold him back from raining the same destruction upon them all as he had the dwarf kind.

The tip of his snout brushed against her knees, shifting the light fabric of her dress as he took in a breath of her. Try as she might, with those immense jaws so close, she could not stop her body from shifting back as far as the unforgiving perch allowed, knees lifting on reflex to nearly curl to her chest. She cursed her weakness but did not have the amount of self control to be any braver when the understanding was so clearly presented that he could swallow her whole as easily as she might swallow a grape. It was visceral to be so close and see the fangs hiding under his lips, fangs that were as tall as she was on their own.

Muilë positively recoiled when a serpentine tongue flicked from behind his sharp teeth to coil around her ankle, partly up her calf, sneaking under the hem of her skirt. It tugged, drawing her foot slightly into his enormous mouth, tugging her partly off her perch. Her fingers gripped the hard arms of the throne, eyes closing, but her lips stubbornly closed and her throat silent. If she were swallowed, she would be so in silence, never begging or screaming out of her fear.

The slick tongue contracted, lightly squeezing, then gliding higher when he gained no further reaction from her. The damp heat withdrew then but he did not lift his head, "Yes, I will enjoy the taste of you... when I have grown  _tired_  of your company." He managed to draw the slightest of gaps from her as he nuzzled the side of his nose against her tense legs. "But I have not become bored of you yet, my little sacrifice. You still amuse me, so you may draw breath a bit longer."

With effort, she forced her eyes to open, forced herself to look into his face and meet his stare. "I am here by choice. I do not belong to you."

"Oh, but you  _do_." The dragon absolutely purred, "As long as you are in my kingdom, as long as I  _permit you to live_ , you belong to me. Understand that you, as every other creature in this land, lives and dies by my whim. I am king under the mountain, Molly!" He used the human name as an insult but she refused to rise to it.

"You may be king in this mountain, but do not suppose your power is so great that none could ever challenge it. The world is a large and surprising place full of creatures we could never understand, new life blooming every moment, and it has a way of surprising us." She was not oblivious to her own foolishness, yet she persisted, perhaps out of spite, "Our downfall comes when we fail to respect the sanctity of life and it's ability to change. None ought think too highly of themselves."

His orotund growl shook not only her body, but the ground around her, " **Silence!**  You speak more freely than is  **advisable**  for one so  _fragile_  and  _breakable_." His neck arched as he lifted himself up, returning to his full and massive height, "I will  _never_  be denied my place, little elleth."

It occurred to her how badly she was shaking and how shallow her breaths had been once he pulled away. "Perhaps." She mumbled quietly.

His composure returned as he adjusted himself to stare regally down the curve of his snout. "Since you will remain in  _my kingdom,_  because it pleases me, I shall allow you a room here."

Muilë blinked, taken back by the sudden shift in his entire demeanor, unable to respond more than a slight nod as he clearly motioned in an incline of his head for her to follow as he shifted in a new direction. Unstable as they were, she eased onto her feet, working with all her might not to let show how badly her body trembled, keeping herself as fluid in motion as she could. She padded behind him as he drifted into a new hallway, leading her into more unknown space in the great and far too-massive kingdom underground.

The only sound now was the grind of razor edged claws over smooth stone and the slide of his scaled hide over the ground. Once again, the world consisted of nothing but Smaug, nothing but his essence and overshadowing being. He was so much more than than a dragon, he was more than a serpentine king, he was the terror and life of this new kingdom of silence.

It was so still she could hardly understand how he had yet to go utterly mad for the silence. There was a lack of life here that made his more prominent but a lack that made it seem truly to be a lonely mountain.

Muilë chewed the inside of her cheek in thought as she trailed behind him, adopting his silence as her own for the moment. That silence, she considered, might well be the reason he permitted her to live. Even a great lord of fire and death with gold rippling at his feet could feel the emptiness of halls such as these, longing for contact of some nature. Perhaps calling it loneliness would be taking it a few steps to far, but boredom and a need for company were another.

If there was a potential of that being his reason for letting her live beyond the catlike tendency to toy with prey, she might have discovered a secondary weakness beyond his abundant pride. His need for attention had a potential of usefulness, a potential to allow her the freedom she so badly needed to complete her own mission. While it was tempting to simply lie down and give up, she would not conceded defeat, not even to the dragon king. If she had the potential to win, she would exploit any stronghold she found. It was her only hope and she knew it. Even a proud elf could and would admit to a clear lack in the face of impossibility, or perhaps difficulty was a more apt word.

The halls grew cooler the farther from the throne room they ventured even though she could still fell it clinging to him. She supposed the treasure and large amounts of metal retained his heat and magnified it over time. Straying from that area cooled the surroundings, if only slightly. It reduced her stress all the same because she felt less overwhelmed by his presence. For any relief, she could be grateful.

"This," Smaug rumbled, "belonged to the previous king, I believe." He had stopped at the doorway, seeming too large to walk through it but he left her no room to comfortably slip by him.

Determination drove her forward as she glided under his wing, moving by the heat of his chest as she glided to walk through the doors. Her eyes drifted up to the room only halfheartedly, more keen on keeping watch over the dragon at her back even if she would be utterly unable to escape his jaws should he decide to spring.

Her brow arched, surveying a room large enough to likely house twelve dwarfs at once; the vaulted ceiling was as decorative and sculpted as much of the pillars of the palace but the far wall sculpted to the likes similar to the towering stone dwarf centuries at the gates gave away the truth to the dragon's words. Only a pompous king would be interested in staring at a carved likes of himself each night. The elaborate manor of the grand mirror and huge hearth spoke further of the luxury once enjoyed here as well as the inlays of gold. The bed, however, could have been the second most lavish thing besides the statutes, its four poster structure taking up a large portion of the room, doubtlessly equal to four beds.

"Your predecessor was quite extravagant." She could not resist a smirk as she motioned at the larger than life statutes, "Humility surely was his greatest attribute." She intentionally neglected to verbally attest her supposition that similar statutes would adorn the halls in the likeness of its only resident were there any workers to put them in place. Her silence was rewarded with a deep rolling laugh from the doorway.

"Undoubtedly." He affirmed, seeming relaxed once again, which was a good sign indeed. "Do you like the room? It is clearly crafted to dwarf taste rather than the more elegant taste of the Eldar, but it is still the best in the cavern."

Muilë took a closer look at her accommodations, "Clearly, yes, but dwarf hands crafted it, so there is little surprise in that. As long as I do not choke on dust, I'm sure I shall be quite well." The elf turned to face her host, bowing low in a typical show of gratitude to a kingly benefactor, "My thanks for your gracious gift, my liege."

If she were not so keen she might have missed the way his posture lifted, eyes brightening, as if in pride or pleasure.

"Of course. I accept your thanks." His massive frame shifted back at last to withdraw. "After your journey into the shattered city, I suggest you rest. Even an elfling must rest after a journey, and you traveled a long distance from Rivendell."

With little more, she watched him turn his enormous body, folding himself in order to leave the same way he came. It surprised her to watch a creature of such size and strength being so innately graceful, amazed by the way he moved despite her wish not to be taken in by him. He was correct however, if she intended her endeavor to be successful, she would need to rest. Combat, even verbally, with such a creature was more than slightly draining. She felt the ache of tiredness, mental and physical, in her every fiber.

Sleep would be welcome even if she did not feel wholly safe in doing so. He could end her life at any time he wished so being awake or asleep would change little. It did set her mind to rest remotely that he could not enter the room, or would have difficulty doing so. The tiny things were what she would be thankful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smaug trying to impress our beautiful elf with gold and glitter and utterly failing was amusing to write. Pretty sure he has similar taste as a dwarf and she is all about subtle beauty and nature, of course. Clashing taste equals a dragon failing to get the desired reactions topped off by her not being as awed with his superiority as he intended makes for an annoyed dragon. (He's still a big bad dragon, don't expect him to be a kitten. Wanted to see her on the throne anyway, admit it, Smaug. Sorry, not sorry)  
> Still lots of secrets between the two of them but those will come later. Hope you like it! Next chapter will mean a reveal of a few secrets belonging to our dear dragon.


	3. Death with Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did give you a tiny look into Smaug's mind, but only a short one. I may give you more later, we will see.
> 
> The chapter title and some themes in this are because of my view on the paring. Dragon's are known for the death they bring and elves tend to be known for all things lively and soft and Spring or Summer itself. Thus I view them as a darker version (if that is possible considering) of Hades and Persephone... kind of. Like, the characters, not necessarily the story line, if that makes sense at all.
> 
> Also, please do not expect this Smaug to be a flowery kitty (nor Molly for that matter) because he's a killer and he's a dragon. I see him as a mixture of Khan for his immense power and obsessive behavior annnd superiority complex, Sherlock for his massive mind aaand that superiority complex again, with a dash of Ben himself for the obvious playful side we see in Smaug.
> 
> Just clearing that up. And thank all of you for the strong and amazing support you showered down on me for this story! I hope you continue to enjoy it, really I do! I'm just hoping I don't let you down since you all seem to have high hopes for me!

***In Starlight and Cinders***

**Death with Life**

*Tolkein

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

 Heat entered the cooled room in waves from his body as he slowly prowled in the darkness, eyes fixed ahead. The tapetum lucidum within his eyes caught the flickering light of the lone and nearly extinguished candle in the corner of the room - she clearly felt safe to leave it burning, a dormant, childish ideal that light could chase away the danger. It illuminated the room to him as well as if the sun were hung high in the sky; equally, it gave him the look of a devil crawled forth from the pit of hell in the shadow of the room. 

The chamber of the dwarf king had been a sudden whim, decision to giving it to her nothing more than a stray thought. Something in him, perhaps the whimsical side, or the prideful side, wanted to show her the very best. He desired to flaunt his grand kingdom and impress her. Smaug desired her awe at his treasures, but to his great frustration, he gained very little of it.  In fact, she seemed nearly repulsed by his impressive shows of wealth, which he could not even begin the fathom!

This little creature was a difficult one to please, not swayed by his gold and jewels in the slightest as any other creature he could think up would have been. With his wealth he was quite aware that he could sway nations, were he willing to offer even a few coins of it. The treasure could buy him anything in all Middle Earth, save, it seemed, this elleth. It confused him mightily and also angered him! Why it upset him so greatly to have her reject his attempts was a little unclear, but it surely had raised his ire. Why he cared what she thought, he could hardly say, but he knew that he did in fact covet her admiration. Probably because he was unused to not attaining it instantly, he supposed.

Admittedly, he was pleased she presented a challenge though and he was eager to uncover her weak points. If not his riches, then what could sway her? What would make her eyes light with wander and cause her to worship his greatness? There had to be something!

Smaug padded closer, his bare feet soundless over the stone floor as he crept nearer and nearer, watching her with sharp eyes, waiting for her to respond, to snap awake, but saw no indication of it. He was silent as all true predators were, the creature within him well prepared for anything, ready to chase if the prey ran.  If she bolted, he would chase her just as a loin would spring from the grass once its meal took flight.

The little hybrid elf lay unmoving beneath the old and neglected but still fine quality blankets. Try as he may, and he would indeed try, he could not deny the elegance and perfection of the creature sleeping within his walls. There was a quality about her that resonated with him on a level he could not fully understand, probably linked on some fine line to the magia they each held within them; elves were of pure magia just as dragons were. 

His dark lashes fluttered as he inhaled her, leaning close over her, hands propping him up against the headboard. Smaug would not touch her, not dare to run the pads of his long fingers through her hair, for it would awaken and alert her to his presence, and he did not yet want that.

When he was near her, he could smell flowers and fresh earth and lush grass, as if he had stepped into a meadow in the peak of spring, almost feeling the soft breeze twirling circles around his body. The elf was spring and purity and new life in a single rapturous mix of scents. He enjoyed it and hated it at the same time, almost wanting to add the scent of ash and ruin to her.

It nearly made him chuckle to understand the difference between them; he was death, fire, and ash, but she was spring, life, and all things beautiful. Interesting, he would say! Life threw the strangest of beings together.

The broad expanse of his naked chest expanded as he took a long, though intentionally silent breath. As a magical being, as well as a hunter, he was more than capable of masking his presence. His body could secrete a hormone, made potent when coupled with his goeteia, almost like a drug that was capable of dulling the senses of his prey were he so inclined to allow it to swell from him, which he was just this moment. 

He reveled in the surprise it afforded him once he finally chose to reveal himself to the hunted little creatures - Not that he always used it, for that would not be sporting, but he took special glee in that moment of utter terror in their eyes. It pleased him greatly that his little trick worked on elves, for she had not noticed him prowling over her head until the coins lodged in his scales broke the spell that hid him.

Unfortunately, it did not work as well on elves as it did other creatures for he had seen her body instinctively tense each time he moved over her, senses alert to him even if she had not fully realized what they were telling her. He saw it now too, the quickening motion of her eyes behind her lids, her legs shifting slightly in an undisclosed urge to flee.

There was something quite spectacular about watching her sleep, knowing she had no idea he was so near. She could hide nothing from him when her masks were down and he felt he could see all her vulnerabilities, stirring his inner predator, though not enough to bring him to act.

His moist tongue ran slowly over his plush lower lip as he allowed his mind to wander over what had fallen into his kingdom. This little sacrifice made to him...  
The flowing flecks of golden hairs mixed delicately through the darker hair was a stunning contrast, one he was very much pleased with, and it spoke glaringly to her mixed blood. Noldorin hair tending toward the darker shades and the Finarfin always being light, the little elleth was a perfect mixture of the two. It was her shining crown far more than the delicately crafted silver circlet she had worn.

Her face was soft curves and rounded edges, beautiful and delicately feminine in every aspect. He could enjoy gazing upon her countenance for whatever time he kept her near. She was femininity in its very finest form, like the embodiment of purity, peace, and gentleness. Every fiber of her radiated the essence of a goddess with pointed ears.

She was his absolute contrast, even in his alternate form; hair an unruly mass of dark, nearly black curls to frame a sharp featured face, purely angles and dominance radiating in his every powerful curve. He was menacing in either form, powerful and harsh in every sense. He was a harsh being, made to be the unmovable rock and intended to stir fear up to the top of any heart. Dragons were of the darker magia of the creation and it would always be so because they were the cruel kings of the realm. A dwindled strength, but a strength none the less. Kings did fall to make way for new ones, that was the way of life. He would not think on that long though, he had more interesting things to study.

As all elves were, inherently flawless, radiating the sort of light and life others craved, she was beautiful. The unearthly aspects of her reminded him keenly of the stories of Finrod being the fairest of his siblings, father of Galadriel, if he recalled correctly.

Oh yes, he could see her connection to her clan in her radiant beauty and he was surprised by his own good fortune that the humans chose so very well. The dragon was an appreciator of beauty if nothing else and he could be persuaded to see it in almost any being, if it was deserving to call them beautiful. 

The elves, however, none could compare to them for they were ethereal in their perfection, not unlike purified gold, putting all others to shame. Had they offered him a dwarf, he would have accepted it for the sport of it, but he had been hopeful of an elf all along, even if he had not directly said so. 

He did so intentionally, to see exactly what the humans might do, curious to know if they were capable of choosing well in what they sent him. They had surprised him, a redeeming - if only slight - factor in his opinion of them. Not to say that he would not still crush them when the promise to spare them was inconvenient, because he would, but they had earned themselves a respite.

As for his sacrifice ... well, that remained to be seen.  He could not decide exactly what he cared to do with her.  She was a marvelous distraction from the silence, her every action interesting him, needing to be explored.  He would take his time for it was his right to explore her.  Entering Erebor was as good as vowing to belong to the king within and he would hold her to the vow, unbeknownst to her or not.  She knew entering could mean her death and she was quite correct.

* * *

  
The obvious scent of dust was the first thing her senses noticed as she shifted positions, turning her head a little over her soft pillow. Mildly irritated, she tugged the blanket closer as her tired mind attempted to decide why any of her possessions should smell so utterly odd and old. Her room had not change, she kept everything quite clean and cared for, not to mention items seemed to last a great deal longer than in the human world simply for the fact that they were constantly steeped in magic from the inhabitants. There was no reason for her bedding to be soiled unless it somehow was due to her trip, dust in her nostrils, perhaps.

Muilë's long, slender limbs stretched under the soft blankets, her button nose crinkling slightly as she nearly yawned. It was so rare for her to tire easily but her trip must have drained her more than normal. Dulled by fatigue, her mind worked slowly as she arched her back in a feline sort of motion.

The elf suddenly sensed a new, oppressive and dark aura in the room in nearly the same moment she recalled with displeasure that she had never returned home after her trip. No indeed, she never had the chance to return home for-

Fighting the rising panic within her, she opened her eyes and willed her heart to beat normally and her expression to remain sage as she sat up, the blankets pooling around her waist as her eyes searched pointedly over the dwarf decorated room for the figure she knew was near.

Her shoulders grew stiff against her will as her eyes connected with fire red and gold pools of frightening depth as the dragon stared at her from the doorway. He was relaxed, nearly reclined on the ground as he clearly waited for her to rise. His arrival was likely to be the reason she stirred for she was very sure he could not have been lingering at her door long without her being forced to notice for the sheer force of his prickling presence pushing against her usual serenity.   
  
The smile he shot at her raised bumps on her skin; smiles, she thought, had no right at all to be so intimidating. They should comfort but his was far from reassuring, not to mention his harsh features of spines and razor edges seemed unused to the act, making it seem more the preamble to a snarl. 

"Good morning." The great dragon rumbled in his long throat, deep as an ocean, but coated in a thick layer of ice. 

Ironic, she might say, considering he was made of fire, "Good morning to you as well, Smaug." Muilë struggled with herself a moment, deciding how to proceed but she finally convinced a smile onto her lips, "It is kind for his majesty to greet me personally."

He chuckled darkly, that glottal hitching rumble in his chest partnered with the sound of amusement, "Even if I desired it, who might I send in my place?" He seemed highly amused by the thought and she could admit to her own private thoughts that her words had been ill chosen, had she thought of it better, she might have given an intelligent greeting rather than a habitual one. At any rate, she would pretend as if it had never been said.

"Was there something you required of me?" She inquired with less edge than she was feeling, sounding at ease when she was, in fact, annoyed. Apprehensive as well, but she ignored that foolishness. 

"It would be remiss of me not to offer my guest breakfast, would it not?"  The added rumble at the end seemed so like a threat even though his expression did not change.

The elf swallowed, dreading what might await her. She could hardly know if there were hidden meanings behind the statement? It could have as easily been his way of toying with her when she **was** the morning meal. Adversely, he could offer her any number of horrible possibilities for food ... she would not put it past him to have found her horse or even a passing human to offer her. The thought of a meal he provided was no less appealing than **being** the meal ... _nearly_.

Rather than voice her lack of enthusiasm, she settled for: " That is quite kind of you, my lord."

"Oh, _yes_ , I have always been known for my _hospitality_ , think nothing of it." He was smirking but she could not decide from what. He was teasing her in one form or another even if she was unsure how to intemperate.

Muilë slid herself out from under the blankets with care, never having changed from her dress considering she had nothing else to put on. Even if there were dresses in the kingdom, they would be made for a dwarf, not an elf, thus unusable. The slight ache in her muscles was a swift reminder of  the day before, if she had forgotten by some chance, which she had not.  Still, she made no reaction, holding her features in a stoic gloss of demure submission.

Without either of then speaking, each shifted to move from the room and travel down the hallway. She feel in at his side, it already having become a natural sort of action, something she was not sure she was comforted by. His wings shifted, flexing to his side as he walked, or more stalked his way through the passage. Clearly, she must be at least slightly under his spell for she should not so easily go to his side and surly should not relish being near the heat he provided but she did. She was comforted by his heat, it relaxing her body like being in the heated waters of some areas in Rivendelle. 

Her heart fluttered at the thought of home and of all those within the walls.  My, what they would think of her if they knew of this! Well, her kin often warned her that she was " _less wise_ " than she should be, more reckless, and they were right. They might or might not applaud her choice to sacrifice her life for the humans and to prevent bloodshed, but the rest ... her other choices were less likely to be considered wisdom. However, she believed that risk was necessary, and it _was_ a risk with a vast chasm of potential for failure in some _spectacular_ ways! Still, the potential if she did not fail seemed worth the chance. She might be the only one to agree, but she was here and they were far away. Elrond may have been wise and a brave warrior, but he had not walked into the death lair so he could not instruct her now, she did not think. It had not been his voice she recalled as she walked the ruins either, it was another that had given her the drive to push ahead.

Some things in the world could not be understood. The mind of an elf was one, the mind of a woman and all the twists and turns in their reasons was another. Muilë was both of those things. Nothing was ever simple in the way of elves. Her earth tone eyes took a swift sweep up to take in her host, glancing away again quickly to stare at the smooth floor.

Nothing was ever simple when it came to dragons either, she expected.  Though they walked in silence she had a very clear fleeing his mind was anything but silent, not unlike her own, but she feared his thoughts. With her senses rather than her actual sight, she knew he was keeping her in his watch. There was no question that he was deducing her in the unnerving way he seemed to having, making his subjects feel dissected without even being touched.

"You seem to be favoring one side of your body. Are you in disrepair?" He asked in a blunt rumble as if reading her mind once again.

Her lips turned into a thin line as she pushed down her anger, reminded fresh that she was with no drooling monster. "No, I am quite well, my lord, merely tired from my travels." Her tone was placid, not letting on that she was well aware of what he implied. 

His subtle inquiry was an indicator that he noticed the damage he caused her. Guarded was what she needed to be but she was unsure how to protect herself against such a beast. Physically she was no match for him, not in power, and she grew in doubt of her superiority in magia as well. Mentally, she felt outmatched as well for he clearly had such a massive mind, one deep and dark and full of sea monsters none had ever seen to sail near. Dragons were different and she was unsure she was enough to best him alone. Not head on.

She had found weaknesses though, ones she clung to as her only hope. With those she could still win, with cunning and care, taking advantage of his superiority complex and letting it battle for her. If his guard was down, she could allow him to underestimate her and then she could spring her trap, the one she had been planning since walking into Erebor. Though she would have to change it, improvise the details, she could be victorious even in the face of such power, she knew she could!

"Ah, then elves are not as _resilient_ as they lead others to _believe_." His smile was like a flame as he shifted his head to block her path, forcing her to stop and look into his large eyes.

The elleth did not so much as flinch, holding her expression like a statue, gracefully stopping before him, "We are resilient, but not made of stone.  We live and breathe as all do, even as you, my lord.  I imagine even a dragon might grow tired at times, for you too are a living creature."

No indeed, she would give him no ground, not while she still had legs to hold her up and those stones tucked into her belt. The dragon was great, his race mighty, but the same was true of Eldar. She must never forget! Gandalf had spoken true, and she would not forget how he had spoken to Elrond of her people. There was much the Eldar could do.  There was a reason they were revered. 

His head dipped in a slight nod, though his sharp toothed grin was still in place, "This is true, though some tire more _easily_ than others, _fragile_ creatures."

"Every being has pieces of themselves that are fragile.  This is the equality of living creatures."  Her stare never wavered even though she desperately wished to end the confrontation, for it was nothing but a verbal battle.

The harshness of his burning eyes softened slightly, not seeming angered by her words, more interested than anything, "Perhaps."  The dragon shifted again, moving from her path and pushing his powerful body forward, shoulders rolling with the change, tucking his wings closer.

Her back was stiff and her posture perfect as her feet silently moved her with him, her dress making only slight noise as the silk dragged over the stone. He was quite impressive and she would admit that she could gladly study his every move for hours without ceasing, simply interested to take in the complexity that allowed his form the sleekness yet exuded the immense power he held inside that rough hide.  His scales were similar to a snake, fitting him like the best armor any craftsman in the entire realm could create.  Magnificent was actually quite an accurate description for him, though she would not speak it to that bundle of ego. 

They passed a mass of melted armor on a stairwell leading lower, very likely to an armory, judging by the vast amount of metal that had dripped all the way down the steps as far as she could see.  Her stomach turned slightly when she made out a single skeletal hand sticking out of the mass.  The elf's steps never faltered and she turned her eyes back to the hall ahead of her, refusing to dwell on the obvious fact that that entire mass of melted metal had once been filled with living men, refused to think of how many lives that represented. It was a good reminder when she had forgotten for a moment where she was.

The realization crawled back into the depths of her mind as she focused her mind on the present rather than the ghosts of the palace.  It would do them no good now were she to die as well.  It was best to hold her head for there were still tasks ahead.  The dragon was somehow good at making her forget in snatches of time, melting her memory with his warmth.  She could not understand how she could remember his danger in one moment and forget it the next.  Tricks of a dragon, clearly.

A new room opened up before the two and she quickly realized that it had once been a great dining hall; the fact made obvious by the vaulted passage, golden plated mantle, and giant table spread over a majority of the room with chairs still stood about in waiting for feasting that would never take place.  Muilë let her eyes sweep the grand tapestries hanging proudly, the finely carved chairs, and even the discarded musical instruments.  

There was an odd smell to the room she could not place but she overlooked it as she had most things.  Her body carried her to the table, fingers touching the wood as she stared at the carvings in it, that table much too short to be of very much use to her, but it would have been tall for a dwarf.  She swallowed back the thoughts itching to be given voice, turning instead to sit on the table edge and stare up at her host.  He had something in mind and she knew he would reveal it to her if she waited.

The way he stared told her he had been waiting for something, a reaction of some sort, and he seemed annoyed anew when she seemed not to give him whatever he sought, though he betrayed nothing with his words, "You're meal is waiting."

At those words her eyes snapped about the room, worried what she might encounter, but very unprepared for what her eyes landed on.  To deny the crinkle in her nose or slight drop in her jaw, though it was nearly instantly banished, would have been a lie.  She swallowed hard to force down the instant revulsion the sight of an Orc resting on the floor and split in half from skull to legs left in her.  Her mind attempted to deny what she saw, the body charred in part but there was simply no mistaking that hideous skull, what there was of it.  Quite a few possibilities entered her mind but this particular idea never once begged consideration.  It was "insult to injury", as humans often said, being offered such a horrific prospect.

"I do not wish to deny your generosity, Smaug, however, I partook of lembas bread only yesterday.  I am sure you know that a single bite is enough to sustain an elf for several days."  Her smile was forced but she hoped he would not notice, "As kind as it is of you to hunt for my sake, I am not yet in need of-"

"You refuse to eat?"  His spiked brow turned down, "After I brought it here just for you?"

"Out of curiosity," the elleth chose to shift the conversation, "where did you find the Orc?  I am surprised it was foolish enough to enter your territory."

The Dragon shifted, leaning his rump against the wall as he curled his spined tail around to rest the tip behind her legs, touching her only slightly, "I discovered it crawling about only a few hours ago."  His eyes gleamed suddenly as he eyed her, "It was drawn to the scent of your mount, I believe."

Her stomach dropped to her toes instantly and she could hold his eyes no longer.  The mare had been discovered and she could not doubt that she had been killed by the Orc or the dragon, either an equal potential.  The thought of her old friend being devoured sent her stomach churning far more than the dead monster ever could have.  Furthermore, the practical side of her screamed at the disadvantage it placed her in, raging in fear over the tilting scales. Even she could not escape as quickly without her horse or her supplies.  An escape, should her plans fail, and should she live long enough to run, that would be exponentially harder now.

She had hoped she concealed her mount well enough to protect her but it would seem that hope had been a foolish one.  It was a struggle to control her breath and keep her shoulders from sagging.  This game of his was a cruel one, though one she had no doubt he enjoyed but she wished to give him little in way of a show if at all possible. 

Smaug's focus nearly burned her as he watched her every reaction, the tip of his tail curling and uncurling, "Mares are quite a tasty treat."

Muilë's eyes snapped up, rage unveiled within them as her fingers curled into fists at her sides, the thought of his taunting her with what he knew would upset her only fueling her anger. "I see."  She ground out, unable to trust herself with anything more but she could not stop a bitter question from rolling free, "Did you also destroy my belongings or did you steal them?"

The tip of his tail stroked up her leg, moving like a worm around her dress, "Steal your meager supplies?  What would I gain in that, _Molly?_ "  He seemed all too fond of using that name.

The elleth stared up into his face, allowing the heat of his touch to ground her as she tamped down the fire of her anger, and she surprised even herself with the calm in her tone, "If you did not burn them, I would appreciate their return so that I might have something to change into."

Those huge eyes narrowed in irritation so clear that even a human could have detected it, "Again, why would I desire to keep such trivial things?"

She splayed her hands to the side in concession, "I suppose you would have none."  Her voice remained even and eloquent even as his tail curled around her ankle.

"I believe you have yet to understand your situation, elfling."  His voice sounded so superior and lofty that it nearly made her laugh.

"I am aware, my lord.  You have removed my immediate potential for escape."  A smile finally touched her lips as she allowed the irony to sink in, "But I am not afraid."  Her words were true and as he studied her, the way his posture stiffened, she could tell that he found no deception in her. 

Eliminating her escape was quite a useless thing for what horse bound to land could outrun a creature of the sky?  She knew this, the removal of it only binding it to her mind firmly.  The loss of the mare angered her, but she was never going to manage an escape on her back.  Escape was not her goal anyway!  Upon entering and finding the dragon awake, a large part of her knew she would never escape alive.  His action only eliminated her hope, and oddly, she felt freer for it.  Her mind was not swayed, she merely knew better the outcome now.  Her task here would be her last but she did not fear it as she expected to.

Perhaps some form of madness had struck her, she did not know, but the fear she felt upon first seeing him was banished for the time.  Her task was clear and she would follow it to the end.  If she survived, then she would rejoice and dance over the rolling hills of her home.  If not, she would have completed something worth doing, something she would not regret.  Both she and this dragon now shared a single chance, a single opportunity.  They were equals now, even if he did not know it yet, but it empowered her to hold the secret. 

Muilë turned suddenly, slipping from his hold with ease, "If you will permit, I will bathe to free myself of the filth of travel."

The depths of his rumbling voice nearly stirred the banished fear back to her heart, but she shoved it aside as he dipped his head into her path, "If I do _not_ permit it?"

The elleth only smiled, ducking under his chin with a boldness she never knew she possessed.  Her spine tingled as she felt more than hear his responding growl.  A gasp left her as she realized her feet were no longer on the ground, and realized next that his tail was wound around her tiny waist to suspend her before him.  The vulnerability in the position, even though his grip was not hurting her, finally rekindled her previous fear from whatever place it had been locked away and she could do nothing but stare into his eyes.  His nostrils flared, his face so near her that she could feel every bit of his hot breath wash over her.  Her hands gripped the hard coil of his tail in an attempt to give herself some manner of control but she refused to struggle, too proud to stoop so low before him.

"You would do well to remember that I am _**king**_ of this mountain and you are _alive_ only because I _permit_ it."  That glottal rumble rippled through her entire body, "You will offer me every respect due a king or I will _remind_ you why they call me the _Tyrant of the Lonely Mountain!_ "

"F-forgive my insolence, your majesty..."  This time her words were sincere, though she was quite sure she still was not begging, stammering, but never begging. 

He clacked his teeth in warning and her eyes closed of their own will, "I will _graciously_ pardon you your moment of madness, she-elf, for I am a _gracious_ host."

It took her a moment to realize they were moving as she struggled to shake off the paralytic affect the deep rumble of his voice seemed to hold over her.  She did not question him as he continued to hold her in his coils, simply waiting to discover exactly what he intended to do with her.  It was not her proudest moment, being carried away in his tail like a child being sent to bed, but she knew to stay silent after stirring his anger.

The walls seemed to close in more as he slithered deeper into the halls, going down and sinking them into more darkness.  It would have been foolish to deny the way her heart beat faster in her chest with worry, unsure what he might do next, but at last the hallway opened up and she realized anew how vast a kingdom Erebor truly had been in its day for the dragon now stood in what could only have been a common bathhouse.  He moved forward, slinking into the water slowly.  It only rose up to brush his underbelly at the deepest space, but he settled himself low into the waters before he finally withdrew his hold.  His great mass made the waters rise far above the first steps of the bath and she was instantly up to her neck in the icy waters.

Try as she might to hold it back, a gaps escaped her at the sheer shock of the cold after being near his heat for an extended time, teeth already chattering as she hugged her arms to her.  She would have fled the water if not for his tail shifting to bar the hallway with a finality she dared not question.  He lazily turned an eye to her, watching her discomfort with rather obvious amusement.

"Here, you may bathe, just as you desired."  His voice was a low purr of satisfaction at a victory well played.

"T-thank y-you."  She gritted her teeth to stop the chattering.

The baths had been dormant all this time, the dead bellows no longer able to heat the waters in their depths of the earth.  The elf did notice as she moved that the water near him was warming quickly and she instinctively gravitated toward it, struggling with her now awkward dress, the massive amount of fabric now drenched and slightly heavy to hinder her.  She had never felt more human in her life and she was not at all sure she enjoyed being lowered so by a dragon.

Smaug, on the other hand, was actually purring softly in his triumph. She could not stop herself from glaring daggers up at him as he smirked down at her.  If she had been less cold she would have waded farther from his side.  He made it all the worse by making her used to his heat, increasing the cold she now felt and she was quite sure it was intentional.  Dragons were insufferable!  She let her anger roll free in her to keep herself calm and prevent the helpless feeling from taking root. No, she would never cower before this lizard, she was of the Eldar and she would never give up.  His victory would not last forever, not if she had a say in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending was just a whim, a stray thought. Don't ask why I did it, it was just a thought I could not shake. (Smaug wanted to get her all wet... yeah, that was a bad pun, I know! lol)


	4. Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strange and Beautiful by Aqualur
> 
> And I hadn't planned to, but I gave you a little more Smaug pov just because it fit and I wanted everyone to see what she is capable of in regards to him, something she doesn't know.
> 
> Also, River by Emeli Sande because Muilë could be to Smaug what Molly is to Sherlock, his clarity and humanity, if he would listen.

***Starlight and Cinders***

**Beauty**

*Tolkein

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

 Clear beads ran trails down the curve of the elleth's back, sleeking down the peak of her ears, dripping off the limp ends of her hair, and falling in loud repetition from her flowing dress. The biting cold seeped into her very bones and permeated her blood to the last drop.  She was surprised her heart could still pump.  While the air became warmer the higher up the steps she climbed, it was slow progress.  Though her expression was quite stoic, not crease to her brow or twist to her lips, she was positively seething inwardly.  The stories of old were no less true in the current time than in the past, perhaps even underestimating the truth. Indeed, the cruelty of dragons was more vast than it had often been foretold! The fiend drenched her in water cold enough to freeze her blood and ruined her dress, only being useful when he warmed the water with his boiling heat. He had waited until she was slightly warmer before he slithered back the way they had come, smirking as he left like a demented cat. The stunt at "breakfast" was also a splendid way to greet the day light, and she meant that in the most repulsive way possible. 

Even so, an elf was never without their ways, and she was never one to waste an opportunity, so she used her chance, slipping a stone from her belt. Fingering the smooth surface, whispering a few words to begging the spell, she let it slip from her fingers with a plop into the water, watching it sink into the depths. The bathhouse was clearly the very deepest place in Erebor, so it was ideal. 

Water was left in tracks and little rivers along her path, streaming off her like she might have been a lady of the lake. The sound of each footfall on the cold stone slapped now with her damp feet and sopping dress.  With the moisture in her skin she could just _feel_ the dirt from the floor caking onto her bare feet.  She felt, and doubtless looked, very lacking in any form of grace. The way she felt only fueled her boiling anger as her teeth shook against each other beyond her control.

Smaug might have been the hunter, the big cat, but the mouse could be a fox when none would expect it. One stone was at the opening of the great mountain and now one was at the bottom, completing half her task.

The elleth had to smile even as she shivered violently, sluggishly trudging into her room, seeking any form of warmth hidden in any of the multiple wardrobes. The thought could console her that the plan was taking shape. While she could do nothing but concede that she lost a battle to him, the war would yet be hers. 

He might drown her, the waters swallowing her steadily in their unforgiving depths, but she still had a little sun to stare at through the water as she died. Despite how miserable he made her, she could content herself in the knowledge that she was winning. 

The elleth shuffled over to her little candle, still burning, hanging on with only the barest reminder of life, and scooped it up in both hands.  She moved with care, each step a slow progress to be sure she did not put out the tiny flame as she worked her way to the huge hearth.  Shaking legs eased her down to the floor as she extended the candle to the wood and kindling awaiting a fire's ignition.  Her eyes watched with hopeful pleading as the lights danced slowly over the pieces of wood and she waited as the bits of paper turned black and smoke spread quickly around the items. After what seemed an eternity, the flames grew and spread in sudden hunger as it devoured the fuel offered to it.

Once she was satisfied it would not go out, she drew away and set her tiny melted remained of a candle on the mantle and shuffled back toward her next goal, arms hugging her chest, holding in any heat she could.

Muilë's trembling fingers fiddled with the decorative metal latch on the double doors. As an elf, she could stand the cold better than other races but her body acclimated to the dragon's heat so fast that the chill of the bowls of the palace so deep into the damp cold was a bit more than she could endure with any degree of comfort. She just wanted something warm to curl up in even if it did not fit. She would accept dwarf clothing considering hers would need time by a fire before she could wear them. Perhaps she could combine a few pieces of clothing, be creative and inventive. Her teeth were still badly chartering as she slid the doors open.

The materials inside were thick, coats with plush fur at the collar, metal adorning every piece in various places, each one elaborate but far too bulky. A sigh escaped her as she pondered the lack of usefulness of dwarf clothing and wondered how she would ever manage to use anything besides the coats. There were a few tunics, she found, after further digging, but all of them would only hit somewhere around her knees at best...and she did not care for that in the slightest. Everything was so short-huge in various respects, but to small in others. It was a bit hard to understand how any being could be shaped so inconveniently. 

Her still damp fingers rubbed at her temple before pushing the soaking hair from it's place clinging to her cheeks. Her dress stuck to her like the skin of a shedding snake, making every move feel awkward. In honesty, she greatly hated being drenched, thinking few sensations were as irritating. Perhaps, she thought with a smirk of derision, that was why dwarfs said elves were "prissy" because they disliked things like this so much. Dwarfs considered being drenched in dirt or looking like creatures from the deep waters to be a badge of honor, but elves were decidedly careful of how they appeared. The differences in the two races and cultures. Ah, well, that would never change.

Tugging one coat from the closet, refusing to think of how close to robbing a grave it seemed, she slung it around her shoulders, absolutely swallowed in the width of it. It was made for one much rounder than she was, but the coat that would have reached the old king's ankles barely hit her knees. Stranded elves held prisoner in a dragon's stolen den could hardly complain.

Muilë tugged free a tunic and began an interesting process of figuring ways to tie it into some workable form of a skirt. After a good bit of struggling with the silk and velvet that had become a sopping second skin, she finally struggled out of her dress before proceeding to assemble her makeshift clothing. With some creativity she managed to tie one tunic around her slim waist, using the sleeves as a belt and fixing the other over the top to create a miss match of colors. The coat was the best part, even if the sleeves were no better than half sleeves and she had to double the sash around herself, it worked well enough. The ellith in Rivendell would have been hard pressed not to laugh at her appearance but she was rather proud of herself, if she was honest. 

She shook out the dripping mass of material and draped it over two chairs beside her fire. Looking at the bright side of things, at least it had been washed, essentially. She would ignore the dirt at the hem.  She could decide to see the silver lining, which would save her sanity rather than drag her down.

A bit more digging and she found not only something similar to a towel, but also a brush. Planting herself at the large table with a mirror she began to smooth her ruffled appearance.  Once finished she would recline on the long - though obviously too short for her - couch and let herself bask in her victories by the warm fire.  Even though it was odd, she was smiling to herself as she worked the brush through her soft tresses. She could build her walls of her sanity high and she could prevail, she knew. With only a few stones tucked into her belt, she was closer to achieving her goal. With that understanding came a peace.

Her hair flew suddenly back into her face as a rush of tepid wind swirled around her entire room, nearly pushing her forward with the force of it.  The elf swiftly flipped her hair back from her face in order to see, madly brushing it into place with her fingers as her eyes searched for an open window a good portion of her mind knew did not exist under a mountain.

"Faring well in the dwarfish king's clothing, I see." Came a low purr from the doorway and she nearly jumped out of her skin in spite of herself, her breath catching uneasily.

Turning slowly in his direction, she took a moment to try to read his mood in that huge eye peeking in at her.  He was studying her rather intensely, taking in every single aspect of her odd culmination of clothing, seeming amused by it for his part in the necessity for it.  A rather irritating smugness hid under the rough and spiked hide of his.

Rather than utterly betray herself, she merely smiled, nodding and lowering her head to let her partly dry hair shield her face in a mimicry of shyness.  It only slipped slightly when she suddenly noticed smoke curling up from the candle near her.  She eyes unwillingly drifted to her hearth to find exactly what she expected to, the gnawing suspicion being confirmed, much to her instant indignation.  The fire she so carefully brought to life had been put out.  The rotten dragon blew it out!  That was the sudden wind.  He intentionally blew out her fire.  It infuriated her even though she quite refused to show it, shoving it aside to the best of her ability.  She would not give him the satisfaction of getting to her.

It was received well enough, judging by the approving rumble in his throat, "Excellent."

Smaug knew she was aware of what he had done, she could tell by the vainglorious tone of his voice.  She was already learning his timbres and what the little things he did to betray his emotions meant.  The elleth had always been a rather fast study of most things, especially people.  The dragon had given away quite a bit to her though, enough to aid her in covering her true feelings for the most part.  He read her reactions, read the tiny things her body did to betray her, and she was capable of controlling those more than he might think.  It was far from impossible to school her body and mind to prevent such reactions.  While she could not control them all she could keep them to a minimal and thus dull his senses, she hoped.

For whatever reason, Smaug wanted her reactions, seemed to covet them.  That fact had become utterly clear today alone.  The question was, what reactions did he want from her?  If he got them, what would he do?  Would it benefit her to offer them or to withhold them?  She needed a bit of time to determine the answer to that question, needed time to tentatively test the waters.  The answer could very well be her life or her death so she could honestly not afford to guess.  Today, he seemed intent on raising her anger and she was not certain, judging by their previous encounter, that giving it to him was her wisest course.  Perhaps remaining stoic to his taunts was best.  While she was angry, enormously so, she could look past it.  Her fleeting loss of sanity and composure had been a crack in her armor, one she could not allow him again.  She was under a good amount of stress but that was no excuse, she needed to be cunning, not emotional. 

A large part of her still wanted to rage at him and tell him all the things he deserved so richly to hear but she knew it was nothing but irrational emotions she would be giving ear to.  No, she would bite her tongue and bide her time, whatever there was of it.

After bringing his wrath, she decided to give into her more submissive nature to placate him, "Was there something you desired, my liege?" 

"Your presence, my dear, mismatched elf."  He smiled, revealing his jagged fangs but she felt no malice coming from him this time, "I wish to show you something."

That did not instill any confidence in Muilë's heart but she gracefully slid to her feet and glided up to him until she could reach out and touch his snout with her hand if she were so inclined, which she was not.  She intentionally strayed close to prove a lack of  fear, her eyes meeting his unflinching to belie her dread.  He accepted it for the consent that it was and shifted his body, wing extensions tucked tightly to his sides, moving forward, a way he had never taken her before.  Exploring the massive kingdom would be quite an interesting journey, she knew, and she would relish it in more ways than one.

He revealed no intent in his expression, no hints of what was to come, only prowled through the halls, taking her higher and higher through the castle.  The air grew colder the higher he brought her away from the culmination of his heated gold, making her sway nearer to his heat before she realized what she had done.  It did not take long before she began to smell the fresh breeze and the clean air of the trees wafting into the empty space.  The outside air was no different than when she entered but it felt so much cooler to her now.  Elves could adjust quickly to almost any condition, adapting to their situations, but the transitions back and forth were never comfortable.  She suppressed her shiver, relaxing her body into the shifting air, surprised she did to relish the taste of it more after being away from it.  Smaug truly did rule his kingdom, overwhelming all her senses to make her feel his reality was the normal one.  That alone spoke of his power, the dragon spell.

The little elf was surprised when he stopped before a wall clearly having been carved at and broken to create a door a semblance of a door, caved in though it was, light only just sneaking in through the cracks in the enormous stone that had fallen over it.  A clawed hand reached out, talons hooking into the massive stone that even a company of dwarfs could not have lifted and he tugged inward.  The stone quickly began to shift and the walls creaked and scraped as it slowly began to fall toward them.  Against her better logic to remain a stone in the face of it Muilë's arms shot up around herself defensively, waiting for him to drop it onto her head, but death did not arrive as her every instinct told her it would.  Instead she watched him effortlessly roll the stone with his grip, using only one of his winged arms to guide and push the boulder from his path and lean it against the wall.

Muilë swallowed thickly, grudgingly in wonder of just how powerful a show that had been, looking at the sheer size of the stone he surely used as a door.  That space was how he came and went to hunt, she could see that now in the deep scratches in the floor, carved over many visits to the outside world. The tales of his strength were not exaggerated, he was not only massive but he was so very powerful. Fixing her stoic mask into place, she steeled her posture quickly, snapping her arms to her sides, hopeful he had not seen her shrink like a child in her anticipation of being crushed.  

Molten eyes fell on her then, showing no indication of judgement or a sneer of victory she supposed he would put on if he had noticed, "Come."  His rumbling command was enough on its own to make her follow close as he slithered through the rift in the castle wall.

Little chunks of stone and dust crumbled to the floor as he made his way out, a very tentative elf following, staying behind his tail, not interested in being too close. She took in a deep breath through her nose, expanding her chest with the new and fresh air of the free, vast world. The free world, she thought, that had no idea a dragon had just walked out of his den. She could only hope he gave them no reason to find out. 

She stared past his swaying figure to the outside.  They were still high in the mountain, quite high enough that he could simply step off the ledge outside and glide into flight without so much as a thrust of his wings.  The mountain was so high it was hard to realize how high it traveled until looking downward at the rest of the world.  Part of her understood how possessing such a mountain could make a king believe himself superior. 

His wings brushed over the ground slightly as he crawled over the ground, his tail curled but stiff, nostrils flaring as he scented the air while he went. The glare from the sun was almost too bright after having been under the ground such a long time but a few blinks cleared the haze.  Smaug's plating did not help tone down the sun, acting more to enhance it like rays gleaming off freshly polished armor, and indeed his might as well have been such.  Desire not to be once again astounded by him did not prevent her eyes from seeing nor prevent her being stunned by his appearance in the full light of post noon. Reds dominated his coloring but, brown and gold scales caught in the true light, even a few with hues of black or blue; the manifold opulence of each gleaming link in his chainmail held the look of fire and lightning meeting as one. Horrific as he was, he was breathtaking when the sun played over his armor, seeming to enjoy caressing him like a child with a pet. His eyes nearly gleamed like beacons when illuminated so.

She stepped out on what she suddenly understood to be one of many statues of the past kings carved so carefully into the mountain.  It seemed very like him to walk atop a deposed king's head as a symbol of his status as a usurper of the kingdom.  Smaug did seem to have a flair for the dramatic and poetic.  If ever there were a place she could have guessed he would make a door, this should have been at the top of her expectations.

Oh, but then they turned on her again once he was satisfied they were alone and all thoughts were stolen and replaced, new ones striking her hard in the chest by the alarming similarity to a creature long past. Her mind drew up the flames of Sauron so often shown to her by others of past days and by the seers of her wold. Shivers darted across the skin of her arms, eyes widening a fraction at the thought. So much danger... so many horrible prospects. She just had to-

"Elfling,"  His head tipped quizzically to the side, his eyes wandering over her, confusion briefly sparked in his eyes but he seemed to shake it away, his long neck shifting toward the sky. "let us go."

Before she had a chance to decide what his intentions were, he was scaling the wall of the lonely mountain like a massive lizard, using his claws as hooks to sneak their way into every catch in the rock face. Her mind never would have considered him an exquisite climber as many of his reptilian cousins were, for her had wings to fly, but she should not have been surprised.  It distracted her instantly like a student studying a problem or spell so that she did not notice the motion of his tail.

Its pointed tip flicked out, connecting in a powerful shove to her middle, forcing her back toward the edge. A very humiliatingly mousy squeak left her lips as she felt herself sailing, shocked but not yet afraid of her pending fall. Instinct took over instantly, mind ignoring the ache in her midsection, her inerrant balance so innate that she needn't bother with fighting to catch hold of a nonexistent tree or flailing, rather shifting herself forward in a fluid sway to displace her body from the danger. She realized though, that she had no need to save herself at all - not that she would have done differently had she noticed - considering his tail was coiled around her waist not a breath later.

Her eyes traveled up, finding his gaze looked into her, neck folded nearly to his shoulder, hard lips stretched in a snide curl, "Elves are very difficult to sway by any means. They just never lose balance, do they?" The way he tilted his head, the predatory gleam in his eyes making him look rather crazed, "What does it take to sway an elf?"

Muilë did not care to answer and he did not wait for a reply, turning back instead to hurry up the wall. While she could not decide if he struck her intentionally or accidentally by that reaction, she wasted no time dwelling on it as either could have been true and neither answer changed anything in her eyes.  Being carried in the coil of his tail for the second time in one day was beginning to seem a trend she found no love of; she did not appreciate that in made the blow from his tail throb no less either. Even so, he climbed the remaining peak in a matter of seconds where it would have taken her nearly an hour, even with her superior speed and sure foot. It would take a human half a day.

The coiled tail lifted her rather gently to place her at the very top of the mountain, his massive skull hovering right beside her. His body could not fit on the peak so he coiled round it instead, almost comically like a worm or snake. She gave him no response, no indication of her discomfort, only aligning her feet to the rocky ground.  At some point in the future, if he continued doing things like this, she might need to find her boots again.  Her skin was strong but even an elf might get tender footed if exposed for too long to the rather cold and sharp ground of the mountain and the little patches of snow atop it.  Being up so high made it decidedly colder and the air thinner, clouds drifting lazily by them, some even stroking along Smaug's razor edge back before disbursing. Chin lifting, Muilë gazed pointedly out over the stretching land, stubbornly refusing to look at him, drawing a deep and impossibly low, nearly demon chuckle from him, one that oddly made her want to smile, melted inexplicably with the sound. Such strange things that voice could do!

"Don't tell me you're still angry?" His voice was orotund, seeming somehow deeper when in the open air of the summit.

Her earth toned orbs finally turned to gaze into his huge eye so near her, "What reasons have you given me to be angry with you? Eating my horse, freezing my blood, or trying the nudge me of a mountain? When asking such questions, you must give me a slightly better idea to what incident you refer to or I will have difficulty accurately answering."

That brought forth another chuckle, though longer and deeper this time, "That answers my question."

"I am pleased to have been of service to you, my lord." Her tone was decidedly even but she smiled rather delicately, much the way she had as a child when she wanted her older brother to do her a favor. 

The glottal hitch rolled through his elongated throat, making it impossible to know if it were a growl or a laugh, " _Yes_ , I have no doubt you are."

Silence descended as he allowed her to survey the rolling terrain stretching out before them as far as her eyes could see. The dragons domain was so clearly marked, desolate and void of any life. It seemed every creature, large and small, knew never to set a single toe, claw, or feather past the border of the dragon king, not even the birds strayed into the air near the great mountain.  The only life brave enough to crawl over Smaug's lands were the trees stretching high and thick, all standing as centuries for the bordering human settlements. They bristled and swayed in attempts to shield the lives behind from the dangerous eye in the distant mountain but they could not fully block the gleaming patches of camp fires or conceal the candle flames oddly lighting each window in Lake-Town. She let her eyes take in everything while she waited for him to reveal his reason for bringing her here, for he clearly had reason. 

"Can you hear the songs of merriment they sing now? Do you know what their songs and dancing mark the day of?" Smaug had not made her wait long.

Muilë turned a confused eye on him before she focused her attention on the sounds beyond the wind whipping about her body, past the waves beating against the shore, and finally she heard it. Human voices lifted in jubilant song, joined by the occasional instrument and taping of feet but she could not make out the words accompanying their little tunes. It disquieted her to think that he might be able to hear it though. The hearing of all Eldar were superior to other races, but if his could make out those faint sounds in order to give them meaning, that was indeed distressing. For his larger size, she supposed it made sense but that fact, if true, so greatly reduced her ability to move about without his notice. She would have to be so much more careful, impossibly silent. 

"I am afraid I do not keep up with human holidays." She spoke tentatively, all the more wary.

He lowered his head, moving closer to her so that she heard as well as felt every single word as it rolled down his throat and off his tongue. "They celebrate your _success_ , my dear _sacrifice_. Since I did not rain down fire upon their settlements in the night or even the morning, they believe I accepted their offering, _devouring_ you and adding their jewels to my hoard, thus granting them a hundred years of safety and peace." His muzzle brushed feather light against her side, resting there in that slight contact. "They knew I would notice your presence, never expecting even an _elf_ to manage to slip into my cave with hope of leaving _alive_." His eye drilled into her, burning with intensity and watching her discomfort, "This is what your _mercy_ and _sentiment_ earned you. They _dance_ on your **grave** ,  ** _Muilë_** , do you understand?"

His words soaked into her body but she stood still, un-moving, and willing her every reaction still.  The truth of what he said was not lost on her, she understood it quite acutely, and she could not deny the sting of it.  They did not know her and she meant nothing to them, so they had no real reason to cry for the loss of her, but their laughing and dancing upon what they believed was her death, and indeed they thought her dead, truck at her heart a bit. She briefly wondered if they would bother to send word of any nature back to Rivendelle or if they would allow her lack of return to speak for itself.

Humans were indeed selfish creatures, absorbed fully in their own worlds and uncaring of any others.  In their short lives they often only began to realize the value in others once they were nearing the end, only in time to regret their choices and lack of impact. The suffering of others were frequently ignored as long as their own circles were well.  Even so, there were good people among them, she had seen it.  Even in their short lives, some could make a difference to the who world, their big hearts changing all they touched for the sheer passion of their vibrant flame. One human, one small, frail human could change their entire kingdom.  The good, strong acts of the valiant few could mark an entire generation of their kind, improving the souls within it.  Despite their short lifespan, some used the shortness as incentive and came to understand in fifty years what some took a thousand to learn.

Those good within the human race were worth protecting, and she believed there were good in those kingdoms.  There had been a few humans that spoke up for her in that gathered crowd, young things that were ignored in the face of so many others.  The elleth smiled, causing the dragon beside her to frown in lack of understanding.  Muilë knew though, those few good souls that spoke for her, the son of Dale's ruler among them, would eventually change those around them.  Those kind souls would breathe life into the other humans, giving them hope they needed to again stand as the brave people they should be.  Standing up for the "one day" was enough for her in the now.  Those stronger were of no value if they did not use their strength to help the weak gain their feet.

"I told you, I do not begrudge them.  They love their families and they do not want to see those they love die.  It is a natural thing, defending your kin by whatever means they must.  Men go to war for such things and willingly die so that their children might live better lives."  Her words were true and felt more deeply than he could see, her own mind traveling to the parents intent on protecting her from the rising evil of old.  Any being would do what was considered foolhardy, doomed to fail, wild, or even stupid to protect those they cared for, it was the way of love.  Love was the seed of bravery, and bravery grew into change.

"It is not their deaths they offered, though, is it?"  His voice was near to a snarl, seeming displeased that she seemed intent to ignore the point he clearly had been trying to prove.

"No, but I understand their reasons.  Even some of my own kind focus only on their kin, caring not if others suffer so long as their people remain safe.  Protecting those you are close to is natural."  Her eyes turned carefully to his scorching one, taking notice of how tightly against his neck the caudal spines along his skull were clinging, laid back nearly flat.

His long claws shifted as his grip moved to bring him around closer still to her, nearly engulfing her with his enormity. "Does it not bother you that they took not a _moment_ of silence for your passing on _their behalf_ , instead **celebrating** your supposed death?  You, a majestic elf they should _bow_ before, was offered not a drop of the same compassion as you bestowed upon them!"  His neck arched against her back, curling around her side in the juncture to his skull to nearly cradle her at his hard jaw, boiling with heat in contrast to the cold air around her.  "Can you truly tell me there is not a _drop_ in your blood that resents their _contemptuous behavior?_ "

"My lord,"  She smiled even though she knew he could not see it at his angle, but she knew he was positioned to better hear her every heartbeat, a move of strange desperation in his desire to understand her, "I find the acts of _many_ to be _contemptuous_ , but that does not prevent my ability to understand."  She reached up, placing her fingers around what she knew had to be his tympanum, allowing him to hear her pulse perfectly, making him start just slightly at the boldness of her touch.  "It changes nothing.  What acts I take do not depend on any but what I believe to be right, what I can do or avoid in good conscience before the heavens.  Their actions do not change what I know I must do regardless of whether I am appreciated or not.  My mark on this world remains clear and untarnished if I do this."

"They do not care about your _mark_!"  Smaug rumbled so low it shook the ground under her, "If you refuse to fight for yourself and _take_ what you are _due_ , you will gain **_nothing_**!  The world will call you _weak_ and will do exactly what those humans did; they will _feed_ you to the _nearest monster_!"  The anger in his voice was potent, almost tangible, "Mercy is not a _quality_ , but a _weakness_ that will be **_exploited_**.  Sentiment will drag you down to the depths if you cannot open your eyes to see that it gains you _nothing_!"

Muilë allowed a lyrical laugh to bubble from her throat, causing him to tense and pull himself into a better position to look upon her, "Are you trying to help me see the error of my ways to improve my life, my liege?" She linked her arms behind her back, fingertips propping her up against his neck, "If so, I believe you are too late to change the error of my ways for I am already dead..."  She turned her eyes up to gaze openly into his much larger ones, "You have said so already.  I am already in the 'depths' as you call it."

His neck twisted farther, bringing his head to her level for better advantage to glare, his muzzle brushing at her chest and stomach, "Do you mock me again, **Molly?** " 

Her voice was utterly calm, a little of her previous madness seeming to have returned in the face of her own thoughts, but she was not afraid, "No, I do not mock you.  I simply gave answer to your question, and I tell you, I hold nothing against the humans.  We all do desperate things to protect what we care most about."  She paused as a stray thought crossed her mind and she spoke it before she thought it over, "Even you, if given reason to care about something, would also do the self same, I believe. "

The dragon jerked himself to his full and impressive height, looking at her much as if she had slapped him, "I would **never** ," his lips pulled back in a snarl, "fall prey to _sentimentality_!"

In an attempt to swiftly placate him, she persisted, "But what about Erebor?  You do, I think, hold some attachment to this mountain.  It is your home, and you care for it."  His eyes narrowed, taking in her meaning before his tail coiled around her again, much too tightly for comfort, pinning her arms against her body and he slithered down the mountain and back through his door.  He did not release her again until he had the stone returned over the opening and he had stalked down to sink himself into his gold, then he at last his rough bulk dropped her onto the mountain of his riches.  Her gulps of unrestricted air and the way she gingerly slide herself to the shifting floor of coins did not go unnoticed.  Her knees curled to her chest as she sat on the hot ground, uncomfortable and in moderate pain.  While she set out not to anger him it had not worked.  Now she was left with renewed soreness in her body and a fresh sense of dread.

* * *

 The two of them stayed that way for quite some time, long into the evening and slipping into night.  She attempted to leave twice but a growl was enough to send her gracefully back to the floor.  He kept her that way so long that the little creature finally curled up and drifted off to sleep, probably from boredom, he supposed.  The gold and treasure did not hold the interest for her that it did him but he did not care if she hated every single second of it, in fact, that was his main idea.  She angered him and once again had failed to give him any of the responses he expected.  His draconic features twisted into a scathing glare as he watched her, chest rising and falling so delicately, peaceful as a lamb even before a wolf.

Admittedly, he had never in all his days had a weaker being fall into slumber while being in the same room with him.  Fear generally prevented it but this elf was _so_ very different from absolutely any he had met before.  That fact made him feel the predator in him stir but also doused the flame of it with his unusual wish to leave it that way.  He simply could not understand her!  He could not, simply could not understand her!  It enraged him and made him desperate to understand all at once.  Different _intrigued_ him!

A sigh escaped his flared nostrils, irritated that nothing he had tried came close to helping him better grasp her.  If possible, he was farther away from it than in the beginning.  Worse still, she made him feel so strange!  She kept him off balance and made him unsure of many things including his own motives.  It upset him as well, to feel things he did not have a grasp on.  Having such a strange creature with him after such a time alone was upsetting everything.  The elf upset his entire world, twisted everything and turned all his typical truths upside down. It could not be left as such, that was all there was to it.

Once he understood her, he could devour her and be done with it. Or, perhaps he might simply keep her forever, adding her to his treasure.  He could not deny that he enjoyed speaking with her as much as he loathed it.  She was no shrinking human that would die after a few years, he could keep her forever if that was his desire.  His head cocked to one side, the spines along his back standing taller at the thought.  Indeed, why should he not keep her, slowly ringing that spirit from her until she was broken and very fully his?  He could break her to his much stronger will, get rid of all those useless ideas she was so intent on holding close, and make her exactly what he wanted her to be.

The heart inside his chest beat a little faster, slit pupils dilating, shoulders rolling, neck straightening, and lips curling up.  The predator side in him stirred to life anew. Oh yes, that was it!  That was what he wanted!  There was more of a reason than a need to understand her that prevented him killing her even when he would have clamped his jaws over any other that drew his anger as she had.  While it was true that he always planned to drag out the death of any creature the humans sent him, prolonging their abject terror for his own amusement, desiring an elf for the challenges they would bring, but this had been different from the very beginning!  Now he finally thought he might know why!

A few strands of smoke left his nostrils as he stared her up and down, openly grinning.  He wanted to _possess_ her and to corrupt her gentle little mind!  Though it was a crude way to phrase it, he wanted a pet, an addition to his horde that could do more than serve as his bed.  Wonderful as his treasures were, she had been right in saying they could do nothing but exist.  Now he wanted something new, a little creature to endlessly torment for his own enjoyment.  An immortal elf was exactly what he needed to keep as long as he wished.  If one day he decided to devour her, nothing prevented him from it, but this way he would have all the time in the world to dissect her and ultimately break her.

She would be quite fun to toy with, had been to this point, and he would so greatly enjoy fracturing her Finarfin ways, destroying her ideas of peace and turning her to his understanding.  He had wanted to upset her by showing her the lack of respect the humans placed on her life as well as prove to her that all her mercy was for nothing.  That idea had only sprouted anew and shifted in his mind from their little argument.  He would absolutely prove to her that sentiment was a weakness, bring her to her knees and make her see truth.  He would teach her to hate those ideas as he did.  There was more cruelty in the world than goodness and she should learn that!

His throat rumbled in a purr, making her stir slightly and shift, rolling over the coins in her sleep.  Smaug stayed perfectly quiet until he was sure she was not awake, suddenly letting free the near sedative in his body to be sure she remained that way.

He settled his body lower into his gold, a little of his near crazed glee fanning down.  Perhaps, he was getting slightly carried away but it was still not a terrible idea.  There was no use wasting a perfectly interesting a positively lovely creature such as lay a short distance from him.  Regardless of his future plans, in order to get something more than veiled insults from her, he knew he had need of a different tactic.  

Perhaps he might try a little hospitality... the real kind rather than his offer of a partly eaten Orc.  He did have food stashed away in his caves and there was no reason he might not offer her a little.  Giving a show of kindness would open her up and make her believe he was softening toward her teaching.  If he seemed to soften, she likely would as well, which would be a very good opportunity.

The dragon rose, sneaking quietly away from his treasure and the elleth sleeping atop it.  After slinking into the cellar he supposed she would find most to her liking, he gathered up a few items to bring back, sure she could not eat very much being as small as she was.  He returned in enough time that his little trick to keep her asleep would not have had time to wear off and he settled himself right beside her, tail curled around her to hold her in and food items places beside her head.  Once he felt he had arranged himself to his best advantage for both frightening her and keeping her from fleeing, he let free a deep rumble from his throat.

Her response was slow, but her long lashes fluttered open, eyes first spotting his tail before she eased herself onto her elbow, then dropping her head back to find his great head hanging over her.  The instant cringe and widening of her eyes betrayed her no matter how quickly she collected herself, unable to still the shaking from her fingers as she sat up more quickly than she normally would.

"I have brought you food I supposed would be more to your taste."  He announced, inclining his head lower and her eyes dropped from his fangs to the apple, pear, and leaves of cabbage.  

There was a silence for several moments before she looked up again, confusion written plainly on her face and in her questioning tone. "Thank you."  The way she reached for it spoke to her wariness, seeming unsure if he might snap her hand off if she touched the food, but when her fingers closed around them without a twitch from him, she relaxed.

Though she took a hard look at the pear before tasting it, probably trying to decide if it was poisoned, she finally began to eat it.  Every bite was delicate, so like an elf, and it was oddly almost cute to watch her.  She was a living treasure if ever he had seen one and it made his chest swell to know that he possessed it.  One way or another, whatever he did with her, she would belong to him as long as she lived.

Looking at her, perched so carefully atop his gold made him feel even more strangely, somehow more possessive but also far more interested in what drew him to her.  Elves were ethereal but he had hunted elves before and not fallen prey to such strange inner conflict as she brought from him.  His moods had been more erratic since she arrived, even for his nature.  At the same moment she enraged him she also calmed him.  What she thought and why she thought it mattered to his thirsty mind and his need to solve the puzzle she was.  Perhaps that was another reason he could not kill her, dragon's were known to love puzzles.

"Why do you dislike my gold, Muilë?"  He found himself asking as she chewed a bite of the fruit.  It was rare that he used her elven name only because a name held power as well as familiarity.  Names were powerful and personal in a way few other things were.  It almost felt strange to use her name, as if using it made her more real and closer to him than she should be.

The elf paused, looking up at him in such open discomfort that he could not help smiling, "Are you sure you want me to explain again?"

"Yes," he confirmed softly, keeping his voice in its higher lilts to keep from frightening her, "I wish to understand.  None that I know would refuse me any request were I to offer them only one item in all this mountain, none but you.  I wish to know why." And indeed he did, this being an uncharacteristically candid moment even for him.

She shook her head slowly, cradling the pear in both hands as she gazed over his rolling hills of possessions, humming slightly before she began. "It has no value if it does nothing to better the world around it. Gold has no life but what it is given, and no value but what is placed upon it. If it does no good to better the world, it is like a life never used. Utterly useless are things never used." Her eyes suddenly turned on him, making him feel irrationally small under her intensity, "I cannot understand why you crave what has no life. Things that are dead have nothing to offer. I cannot see why you chose to see nothing but this lifeless mass as valuable. It cannot speak, nor move, nor offer you anything. Even the trees do better than that for they offer us air and shelter. Gold is nothing more than a rock."  
  
Smaug's spikes shifted along his spine to stand on end and seem even larger on reflex, "Is it not rock that shelters you now in the form of this cave, of Erebor?"  
  
"Only because it was rock put to use. The rock itself did nothing, it only shelters because hands took to carve it out." The elf had not faltered even slightly and he could not understand how she suddenly seemed to much taller even though he knew it was not so. "It would still be nothing but rock had it never been used, Smaug. Rock has no value more than it is made to have."  
  
For a moment, he allowed his emotion into his voice, his astounded wonder, "Why do you care about such things? Why does it matter so much to you?"  
  
"Because..." Her eyes fell away and onto the floor, onto his claws, a strange sort of smile on her lips, "I hate to see potential put to waste. Life is meaningful in any state and power is meaningless if it is not used for a purpose. Each life can make a difference, I think, I've seen it before. One little light changes a dark room." Her eyes traveling away from his feet, roaming over the floor and leaving him oddly empty without her eyes on him, "There is already too much darkness, so it is a pity to put out a light."  
  
Smaug blinked, his heart feeling sluggish, and he suddenly realized in horror that she had slowly been bewitching him with her eyes and the soft lilts of her voice, though she did not seem aware of it for she had broken the contact first. Her magic must have begun acting of its own will to protect what little power she had. Waking so close to him put her on guard and she acted accordingly.  So too, she might have sensed the wild thoughts and emotions coming from him even though he had dulled her senses.  She was an elf and it was a feat to ever catch them fulling in any snare.  Elves had a habit of catching their attackers and turning the tables.  For that, he would have to be more careful how he listened lest he fall to her spells again. Somehow, he felt no anger at all toward her, more at ease than he had in some time, probably due to her little spell.  It was of some consolation that she had not noticed the hold she wove into his senses. Elves were dangerous, very dangerous even in their gentleness. They used magia woven into voice and song the same way that he used his jaws.  
  
"Sentiment." He spat the word like poison, curling in on himself slight, trying not to show how strange she left him feeling. "There is no value in that pitiful affliction!"  
  
"If used correctly, sentiment is a strength and not a weakness. It can be powerful, causing men to willingly follow a king to a battle they know they cannot win, all for a wish to protect him. Sentiment and loyalty walk side by side and can sway a nation together the way fear could never hope to alone." Her dark eyes gleamed in the flickering light as he watched her soft words dance within her like the fires of passion.  
  
"Fear brings respect and forces loyalty. It is the only true way to sway anything or anyone! Men can be bought but terror forces the will into action." His voice was edged sharp and hard as always, regaining himself without her eyes on him.  
  
A wan smile creased her face, her eyes still refusing to look upon him, "Loyalty cannot be forced any more than love. It can be persuaded to linger in false submission, but it cannot be forced to stay and is swayed easily."

This elleth was more beautiful than she had right to be, somehow more beautiful the longer she spoke, but he was not willing to dwell longer on the subject for the night lest she cast another spell.  She was more powerful than he supposed, having subdued his mood in only a moment, and he _had_ been subdued for he could not bring forth any desire to be angry.  It would be best if he left her.

"You should go to bed.  You are clearly tired."  He muttered before shifting his tail out of her path, setting his head upon the ground as if he intended to sleep.

The elleth nodded, seeing the finality and scooped up his offered food before padding away.  He could hear every step as she made her way over the shifting gold and finally to the steps.  Smaug waited in silence as he listened to her turn down the blankets of the bed and remove the outer coat.  He continued listening even as she crawled into bed and slowly, very slowly drifted into sleep.  The dragon stayed still, thinking over the day as he stared out over his cave.  There was much he needed to decide about that little creature.

She was more than she seemed.  There was something happening to him in regards to her and he needed to understand what that was.  If he could understand it, he could master it.  

Without particularly thinking over his own actions, or even realizing he was moving, he made his way to her rooms and spread out before her door to watch her as she slept.  He never seemed to tire of watching her sleep, a bit as he never tired of staring at his gold or caring for his treasures.  Later still, after watching from the door was no longer enough, he could not stop himself from shifting his body and creeping in the sit beside her, looking at her more closely than she would allow if she were able to prevent him.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was long but I didn't want to split it up, sorry! Next chapter is another reveal of a secret! Finally!


	5. Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fear the Fever by Digital Daggers works rather well for this chapter. I'll let you guys decide with one of them it fits best. I thought of it as Smaug's mainly, but in many ways, it goes both ways, but I think I'll stop musing now.

***Starlight and Cinders***

**Beast**

*Tolkein

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

 Consciousness slowly ebbed its way in and out of her unconscious, something tickling at the back of her mind, a sense of something amiss and the feeling of wrongness she could not quite understand. Something was different about the air and the elf felt the need to awaken, the need to run, race for the surface and just run until she could move no farther. Something, a tingle of magia, a very strange sense hovered above and around her like an ominous cloud.  She had a feeling she knew it, felt it, smelled the peculiar tang of tainted midnight and metal but she could not remember why she knew it. Her feet swung of the bed before her eyes even opened and her body was taking her to the door before she fully comprehended what she was doing.

Her subconscious mind knew something her waking mind did not but she could do little but trust those instincts. Those were the things that tended to keep an elf alive. The need to hide was overwhelming her as she trudged down the hallway, driven to be doing _something_ even if she did not know what that might be. There was something she needed to stop or to see, something important enough to bring her from dreams in the silence of the dark kingdom. The elleth's nimble feet drew her up the cool steps of the caverns and air began the curl around her in little gusts. 

Indeed, that was telling! The swirling chilled air told her the door Smaug took her out of earlier in the day was open once again.  Her flawless brow wrinkled as she peered ahead and then behind, listening for signs of the all too stealthy creature, even the hints of his breath but none were to be found. That was an ill sign and she was instantly put further on edge.  The way he sent her to bed should have alerted her to trouble brewing.  His strange mood should have told her something too!  Her steps quickened, bringing her to a full run as she leaped the remaining distance to the opening, hearing the telling indications of turmoil well before she had reached it.  

Muilë reached the door, not pausing to check if he was near and rushed out into the open air. Her superior eyes searched the dark night sky, seeking out his winged form. When she did not find it she scanned lower, eyes darting over the ground until she spotted movement in the trees. The sound came again, the sound of fear and panic leaving human lips in desperate cries. The fact that she could not see the enormous figure of a dragon did not stop her feeling of dread nor convince her that he played no part in whatever was causing the unrest. Each breath she took of the cold atmosphere tasted of the spice and bitterness of dark magia and that was enough to tell her that reptile had done _something_. 

For whatever good she might do, she would indeed do her best to put an end to whatever carnage the dragon might be spreading.  Without even contemplating the cost, she took the first dive to a level below, the old stone king's carved arms, followed by another to the hem of his cape, and then to his shoe.  Muilë gritted her teeth, intentionally not having given herself time between pounces to feel the pain of the impacts, rolling from one to the next.  The final landing felt the hardest though it had been the shortest. Her right foot was steadily gaining a dampness under it, the sticky blood from a rock piercing her on the first landing ensuring she left her mark of descent.  Even her body was only intended to take so long of a jump, especially without shoes.  A groan left her lips when she straightened from the crouch, joints screaming their displeasure at the unjust punishment when she forced her legs to move.  She staunchly ignored the initial stiffness of motion as well as the pain, moving progressively faster as she regained her air.

Even with stiff body, she arrived in the tree dotted spot she had seen humans scurrying, barely daring to breathe as she raced through the forest.  In the few moments it took her to get down the mountain and the ones too arrive at the trees, the forest had gone deathly still.  The stillness was always worse that the noise if her past experiences were telling. Her steps hitched a moment when the potent stench of blood curdled in her nostrils.  With a grimace, the elleth proceeded, stepping silently as she plodded on, aware only too acutely of the meaning. They were some distance from the human settlements but it had indeed been human screams she heard.

Her body cringed back when she saw blood dripping from the leaves of a tree, an arm and part of a shoulder suspended on a branch overhead and the skin tissue was sticking to the bark where something human had been slammed there so hard it seemed to have... Her lips pursed when she spotted the pitifully shattered and disfigured being to her left, deeper in the trees. Dead, clearly.

She turned her path toward the body, knowing with unsettling dread that more must be close. Following a steady heel to toes pattern, ignoring the puncture in her arch, taking care not to crush leaves or twigs as she walked past the first casualty, she persisted. Her assumption was not proven wrong for a few steps more produced a second body, this one recognizable as a male human, neck snapped savagely to one side as if the spine had been little more than a thin reed. Her breath slipped in slowly between her parted lips, eyes turning from the body again as she moved ahead. There would be more to come, and so she continued on, moving a bit faster in bleak hopes of finding one alive. They had been screaming moments before so there was a chance some had hidden themselves, slim though it was in the world of chances. The elf wished to have arrived in time to save at least one from the fate of the first two. 

A tiny sound caught her attention and she veered in its direction, intent to reach it before the source of this death could. Her heart was beating faster but she could not slow it, her worry too potent to control. Her steps halted when she heard fabric brush against bark, sharp eyes piercing past branches and darkness until she spotted it, another human male, slinking though the trees away from her.  Even at a distance, the moon to his front, she could see blood was spattered over him, soaking his tanned leather coat and pants from back to front. He was doubtlessly injured but he was still standing, so that was a hopeful sign.

Muilë dashed for him, intent on reaching him before he could be snatched up. Her fingers laced around his wrist and she spun him toward her, whispering for him to be silent and breathing assurances that he would be alright.  Widened, slanted, sea blue eyes turned to look at her in a mixture of surprise and indifference. The moon was at his back, darkening his face to her but she could see him well enough.  His thin, sculpted face was rather void of any emotion save his lowered brows, dark hair wild and dripping in places with blood from a possible head-wound. Humans entered into shock quickly and she surmised that to be the case instantly by his listless examination of her, the weak way he turned his head to stare, and his lack of any better response. Muilë tugged gently but desperately at his wrist, eyes fixed on his blood streaked, pale face. He could not be well, complexion like a ghost the way humans rarely looked but she had no time to check his injuries.

Her voice was low, just a breath intended for only him, "Are there any left? Are there others alive?"

Those blue eyes blinked, uncomprehending of her words for some time, but finely, after a long moment, he frowned slightly and lazily shook his head in answer.

"Alright," the elf nodded, rubbing gently at his hand, ignoring the dampness she knew was running blood and the stench of blood clinging to him, "not to worry, let's not think on that, let's just focus on _right_ this _moment_." When his eyes drifted down and to her feet, a blank though contemplative lack of emotion within them, she reached up to touch his face, drawing those eyes back to hers, "You _must_ listen to me, I want you to stay very close to me and be very _quiet_."

He said nothing once again, only started at her as if she were a puzzle he had need of understanding, a thing that eluded his grasp. There was something in his eyes, curiosity, she might say, as well as possible anticipation, but it was barely there. She would expect nothing better from a human in shock so she turned her attention instead to the woods, searching for signs of a dragon lurking just in the open, somewhere that could fit his massive body. Once she was satisfied, she tugged the poor creature into motion, and he followed, allowing her to tug him behind her. It was unlikely that he could walk very fast in his condition but she persuaded him to move as fast as she expected would be possible. She needed to move him before Smaug returned and before he lost too much blood and lost his ability to move. She could carry him but that would slow the progress, his awkward height a hindrance. 

Muilë was taken off guard; more focused on watching the sky than on he charge; when she was jerked to a stop with more force than she expected him capable. She spun to look at him, his feet planted in the ground, a suddenly stubborn and irritable look in his face. He was disoriented, she surmised, and she would need to be gentle.  Humans; though judging by his height, well muscled build, body shape, and strength, he must have been a halfling of some kind or other; were very easy to damage.

" _Come_ , I will get you away from here, you _must_ trust me." Her voice was quiet and as gentle as she could manage without losing the authority of it.

His head cocked to one side, a peculiar glint of amusement in those eyes that she did not understand. His shoulders rolled back a little, straightening his posture as he watched her face so carefully she felt strangely intimidated even though she had never been intimidated by a human in her life. Something more was wrong with him, perhaps a blow to the head, perhaps the close encounter with death and a dragon sunk his mind into madness, for the longer he started the more madness she saw there in his eyes. 

"You must come away from here before..." She stopped when he shook his head slowly from side to side, deciding to be more firm, "You will be safe once we are away from the mountain, do _not_ resist my help, _human_."

At that, a smirk slithered its way over his lips in a cool crawl. The feeling of wrongness spiked suddenly within her once again, feeling an ill sense of recognition. Her feet shuffled her away but he did not release her hand, holding it more tightly instead and she was struck by that strength. Reflex told the elleth to jerk her hand from that touch and she instantly obeyed, jaw slackening and eyes turning down in shock to find his grip holding fast against her resistance, which was impossible even if he were a halfling. Muilë's breath and heart stopped when a dark, rolling, velvet chuckle oozed from him, one she instantly recognized.  He pulled on her arm, turning just slightly, enough that she saw the light catch in his eyes, making them glow an orange shade of red.

She gasped when he spun her, squashing her back to his hard chest, thick, strong arms clamped around her like the coils of a snake, "I was almost tempted to let you take me, if only to find out where you intended going, I considered humoring your game,"  Smaug's voice dripped down her ear like boiling lava, rocketing a nearly hysteric panic in her chest that closed her throat and tightened her chest, "but I think not. I indulged your savior instincts long enough."

" _Smaug_!"  The word fell from her mouth the same way it had upon their first meeting, laced with fear, horror and shock.  "Impossible!  This is a trick!"

"It is no _trick_ , **_elfling_** , merely a long held ability and well kept secret of my race."  He sounded so calm, purring into her ear.  "But that is not the issue I am concerned with."  A vicious edge began in his voice and grew with each deep intonation, "What I _am_ concerned with is the fact that you, without one _word_ of permission, **_left_ ** Erebor with intent to **_flee_**.  Thinking me human was your _second_ mistake though trying to save _me_ was your next.  The **first** , _however_ , was **_daring_ ** to believe you had the _right_ to do _any_ of those!"

"Smaug..."  The elleth whispered again, shock taking hold of her the way she believed it had him, caught on the fact that this too could be the great dragon she knew.

"I do believe I _established_ that, my _astute_ little sacrifice."  His tone was mocking and somehow jovial, enjoying how she floundered in her disbelief, "Now, shall we move on?" 

Catching both her wrists in one hand, he roughly began dragging her back in the direction of the mountain, not minding how he made her stumble at the awkward angle he forced her into.  Her mind could not even begin to understand what it was that she was currently seeing, mainly convinced it was some nightmare she had yet to awaken from.  There were skin-changers, she had met a few in her time, though the number in the world had greatly dwindled, but this seemed so much more than those beings.  She found herself wondering which of his two forms was his natural one.  He said it was a secret of his race, but did that mean the dragons were nothing more than another shape-shifter?  Perhaps they were all in the form of humans, creatures not so different from Beorn.  Did that mean, she wondered, that his human form was easier to reason with, or his dragon form?

The elf jerked back suddenly, almost managing to slip his hold, but he stopped, turning a scathing glare on her, a rumble in his chest like a growl, but she ignored it, "Did you kill all of them?"

His eyes narrowed at her before he muttered in boredom, "Of course I did.  The lot of them wandered into my territory.."  The lackluster faded to murderous irritation, "Drunk out of their minds, stumbling about announcing they had come to slay a dragon. I heard them mulling about and so I showed them how wrong they were.  Humans will never harm me, even if I appear as they do."  A razor grin of manic glee lit his face as his eyes met hers, "None of this blood is mine, if you were unsure.  But it is often amusing to slaughter them when in this form for the pure disbelief in their eyes before the terror sets in as I crush the skull of one of them between my bare hands."  He chuckled, the sound of evil and depth of night, "It's almost more fun this way."

Somehow, when she saw him in this skin, able to see each expression so very clearly written over his human face, expressions she had seen on others men with minds lost to darkness, the elf was more terrified of him than she had been when he looked the part of a monster.  This beautiful human face was deceptive and beauty hid so much more than spikes and scales.  The very worst monsters often looked the more gentle.  Even with the hard lines and edges of his face and body, he looked like someone to trust and that only meant he was anything but safe.  This form seemed more dangerous, eyes gleaming with swirling storms.  The human form was perhaps the one she should fear more, the revers of most skin-changers.

The thought of going back to that mountain with him, with a creature that could get into all the small places she previously thought would keep her safe, that stirred a new fear of him that she never expected.  She could not escape this creature and that was a worse knowledge than being locked in Erebor with a dragon that killed every living creature near.

Elves could feel the human sense of "fight or flight" as well even if it was rare.  At she stared into his eyes, one turned gleaming red in the moon light and the other a normal blue in the shadow, she felt that primal instinct swell to life in a way she was unsure she had felt before.  Her plans were forgotten in the face of a creature she no longer believed she could defeat, secrets larger than hers and only growing the longer she knew him.  Perhaps none of her plans would work on him at all, perhaps it had all been for nothing.  She would fail in her self proclaimed quest and she could not force calm into her heart any longer.  There was only so much one could endure, and this dark magia shifter was apparently her breaking point.

Muilë hissed, lunging at him, using his surprise to twist from his hand.  Her hands and claws struck for his eyes, the obvious weak place in any dragon.  He reared back, swatting her away, sending her hard into a tree trunk.  Blue eyes met brown in a long moment of pause and unspoken words of intent.  The elf broke the standoff first, jumping to her feet, pain forgotten as she sprinted for one of the human bodies she had seen before.  The fallen sword had seemed useless when she saw it beside the body, useless against a dragon's hide, but it seemed a better idea now.

Words from a long ago age were tumbling from her lips in a rhythm that matched her steps, creating a beat of sound none but she and perhaps her enemy could understand.  A glance behind told her that those words, the magia woven in them, were potent, the human dragon shaking his head quickly to shake them from his mind, steps slowed.  Her fingers closed around the hilt of the bloody sword and she turned back to face him, only to find herself slammed against a tree, blazing eyes burning down into hers.  His body pressed her against the unforgiving bark, taking the breath from her lungs and making her mouth fall wide in an attempt to gain it back.  Her gasping only made him push harder, keenly watching her discomfort as his fingers dug into her wrist hard enough it could snap at any moment.

"You want to fight me?"  The unfamiliar Smaug asked, glinting eyes playful but incredulous, something predatory bubbling from him, "That is hardly becoming of a Finarfin, but by all means, do try!"  

The elf used the tree at her back, digging her toes into the ground and rolling with all her might.  He was put off balance as she pushed him not away from her, but turned him toward the ground.  All men were weak to gravity at the waist if their body shifted correctly, and they could be force down. She landed on the ground intentionally to sway him low, and his grip on her arm fell away as he caught himself.  Once again she slipped from his hold, using his hunched position to her advantage.  She jumped onto his back, short blade coming around his throat, holding onto him with her arms and knees for dear life.

The world stilled, silence falling, neither figure moving as they remained in what felt like a form of stalemate.  Only seconds, breaths passed, but she wondered why she hesitated even a second.  Part of her mind screamed orders for her to slice deep as she could before he regained himself.  Something about it did not feel right though, something stayed her hand but she had no idea what.

"Why do you hesitate, little Finarfin?"  Smaug purred low in his throat, "You were doing so well!"

Muilë gasped, jumping from his back when she saw a terrified face looking over his shoulder at her, not the face of Smaug at all, but of a different human.  That was why she hesitated, goeteia was at work, he had been trying to trick her into killing one of the humans herself.  The sword dropped to her side as she stared, stunned and horrified.  The dragon was playing tricks on her!  It was impossible for such a thing to trick her eyes for goeteia was nothing better than an illusion and elves could not be fooled by cheap visual tricks, yet here she was.  He was strong, too strong if he fooled her eyes even with the darkness in his favor. She backed away, eyes shifting over the area in an attempt to locate him, be he in human or dragon form.  It terrified her that he could trick her.  Her heart was nearly beating itself to death in her chest as her mind raced in circles. There were times she supposed she was under his spell, but how far had it stretched?  How much of the night had been an illusion?

The human's fearful expression shifted to a smile as the strange face melted and shifted like smoke until it was again replaced by the carved stone features she had been looking into moments ago.  The elf took another few steps back, unsure what she might believe now, reality in question.  She watched as he rolled his shoulders, a bark of laughter breaking from him.

"You are not the _only_ one able to confuse and disorient an enemy, especially when in direct contact.  Your words might make my vision blur and warp the sound around me, but I too can alter what _you_ see, _Molly!_ "

The pricks of panic had grown with her inability to trust her own senses.  Her senses were always what she relied on but if they were not to be trusted, she could not trust herself.  Fear so thick it strangled her lungs clawed away at he from the inside.  The sword dropped from her fingers and the elleth bolted, not heading toward a village nor the mountain, but away from both.  She wanted out of this horrible place at once, she wanted nothing to do with dragons, she wanted to run and never stop running again!  Her small figure slithered like clouds on the wind through the forest, her injuries crying out but falling on her deafness to them.  She was afraid, afraid of that monster and the power he held over her.  There was no way to know what more he could do to her but she did not wish to find  out.  The dragon knew too much about elves, enough to do far too much damage to her, enough to trick her, make her say things she would never normally say, enough to make her give him even more.  Smaug knew enough about her kind to get her to show him everything.  She had already given him too much!  He had poisoned her mind.

This plan had been doomed from the start and by staying she had only endangered her people more than they already were.  This night would have angered him and she simply had to sound some manner of alarm before horrible things spilled free because of her foolishness.  The Eldar had to know of his power, had to know of his dangers, and she was the only one that could tell them, which meant that she absolutely had to get away.  Lord Elrond could protect his people if he knew what to combat, and she had seen enough to help him.  What would come of this night would be her fault and she understood that keenly.

Her legs were moving at the very fastest that she was capable, pushing her body to move the way it was designed.  She could hear him though, crashing fast behind her, not moving around the forest, seeming more to make it move with him instead.  It felt as if the world rolled with his motion behind her.  The elf was like water in her progress, but he was like a hurricane.  The sound of him spurred her to move faster, pressing herself to move beyond her own normal limits, streaking through the wood like a whisper that had never been there at all.  

Muilë screamed as she crashed and skidded over dirt and twigs, an exceedingly heavy weight pressing her into the ground.  Neither moved for a moment after they hit, the elf uncomfortably crushed on her side with his large figure draped over her, both of them panting in air.  They pushed each other to exhaustion, covering ground like the wind cutting across a field.  His chest expanded harshly again and again as he dragged in air, his face resting to the side of hers, each heave of breath moving her hair one way and then the next.  His breaths sounded different from hers, she noticed, more raspy and ragged, like an animal. A few strands of her own hair clung to her lip but she could not move her hand to displace it.  In this form, they were rather evenly matched.  In his dragon form, he would have overtaken her in nothing but a trot, but like this, he was like her.  Well, apparently a little faster, for he had caught her. 

Smaug broke the set silence with a deep growl seeping from his human chest, "Do not run from me _**ever**_ again!"

"Why not?  You kept up rather well."  She found herself saying, not thinking much over it, "I would at least keep you fit if I did so.  As it is, it is taking you a bit of time to catch your breath."

Her words seemed to catch him off guard as he fell into a moment of silence before she felt him smile, "You, I believe, were not wholly unaffected for you were breathing a bit heavily as well."  The mirth vanished almost as soon as it came, "But don't bother distracting me for you will find my memory in perfect condition."

Smaug jerked her up with him as he stood and her instant reaction to being back on her feet and feeling the anger coming from him in waves was to jerk back to gain some distance.  He snarled low, baring his teeth, eyes blazing at her as he tightened his grip on her arm, his other hand clamping the back of her neck.  Those fingers dug into her soft flesh, though not hard enough to be honestly painful, which she was glad of, but enough to control her.  

With his hold, he forced her to look up into his face, "You will not escape me, not ever!"  The intensity in his eyes made her nod her understanding swiftly, placating him only very slightly, "You will never again attempt to leave _without my permission_!  You **_belong_ ** to me until the day I _kill_ you or set you _free_!"  Smaug leaned closer, his warm breath moving over her face as he stared into her eyes, his voice so low it almost seemed to resonate with the thrums of the earth, "You see, you belong to _me_ now, as part of my kingdom from the _moment_ you stepped inside... and I will not part with a _single_ coin from my treasure, nor will I allow you to leave! _Do you understand?_ "

Her body was nearly trembling under the pressure of his furious eyes and the finality of his words, the sensation of being trapped making her tug at his wrist in futility.  Pride, stubbornness, or madness kept her tongue still, refusing to pledge any such promise, to agree to such terms, but her silence only made him snarl hard enough to feel in his touch.  His fingers tightened, tangling with her hair as he forced her to maintain eye contact.

" _Say it!_ "  Smaug hissed, shaking her as a prompting threat.

The elleth began to thrash in earnest, pushing at his chest and kicking with all her might in an attempt to break his hold but it was unshakable.  It was strange but she was slightly less afraid of him in this state as well as more.  With his size brought down closer to her own, he seemed an opponent with the potential to slip away from, and it brought to life her desire to try even if she knew in a larger sense that it would be without fruit.

"I belong to no one!"  She met his murderous glare with one of defiance, her tone much stronger than she felt because she would not bow to him in fear, "I am the wind beneath the wings of a bird.  Do as you like, but you cannot change what I am! Children of Eru shall always be the wind and the waves, not intended to be possessed, but free."  Her chin raised despite his hold, "You may kill me, but you cannot possess me."

She had done enough damage to her kin and she would do no more by crumpling at his feet.  The spirit within all elves was one to be free, to bring life where they could.  On her part, she would never disgrace what her people stood for.  Eldar stood for peace, life, and freedom, it was their way.  He would kill her, she no longer doubted the inevitability of it, but she would die proudly, not begging at his feet.  If he snapped her neck, the light would go out in her eyes without complaint.  Making promises to earn herself a few more days was as useless as his mountains of gold.

Smaug growled before he shook her hard enough to disorient her, making her unsure how her neck managed not to snap, and causing her knees give way, but he did not allow her to fall, scooping her up instead.  "Then I will clip those wings!"

While she did not remember having been dizzy before, she very much was now, which she expected was his intent.  He turned on his heels her body draped in his arms, her own pinned behind her back uncomfortably, shoulders aching at the tension. The world spun around her, making her crave anything solid and stable and she let her head rest against his shoulder even though it went against ever angry and indignant voice screaming in her head.  He was moving fast, long legs aiding him rather well, and the branches passing over her made her world warp all the more.  If anything, the helpless sensation made her want to struggle harder, which she did; her body writhed in his hold like a thrashing fish, slowing his progress.

Those incredibly strong arms squeezed her in warning, making her grit her teeth as she felt her ribs shifting and the blood to her legs stop flowing.  "If you persist this irritating display of defying me, I will tie you into a ball with your own hair."  He grumbled angrily as he quickened his pace.

"If you would be reasonable, we would not have these problems at all!"  Muilë snapped at him just as angrily.

"I am _**King**_ , I do not have to be.  You, _my sacrifice_ , would do well to learn that!"  His lips turned to a venomous sneer, "But I will _ensure_ that you learn.  It is unwise to anger me, more still to _defy_ me!  You will find I do not forgive so easily, _elfling!_ "

"I seek no forgiveness from you!  I did nothing wrong."  While she was temped to continue to fight his hold she also did not question his resolve to keep her still and was not extremely keen on being tied with her own hair.

His anger was palpable and so she stayed quiet, though the quiet lead her to ponder exactly what might be done to her once they returned to his kingdom of darkness and ghosts.  Whatever remained ahead of her, it was not likely to be anything of a particular enjoyable nature.  Her only regret though, was that she had managed to save nothing, not a single human if he was to be believed, which she supposed he was when it came to death.  She only hoped he had not, or would not, seek out further human life on this night or others.  If it was to be, she hoped they were the extent of fatality for as long as possible.  While they had been foolish to enter his territory, the punishment was a far sight more harsh than it ever should have been.  

Her nose curled as she finally noticed the smell of death clinging to him once again, still enough now to take it in.  Whatever poor soul he stole his current clothing from, she had no idea, but he would doubtlessly need new ones now, stained as they were.  The human dragon was a gruesome sight, dark curls matted in some places, covered in blood and other tissue of his demolished prey.  The elleth realized to her further distaste that she was also rather unsightly now, blood from him staining her as well, almost as if she were also guilty; in part, she was, for failing to stop his blood lust and for perhaps fueling it with her petulance. 

The walk was taking an intolerable amount of time considering how it gave her time to ponder each mistake she had made since her arrival.

"Why not simply change back to fly?"  Her mouth fell shut instantly after asking, the answer clear before his glare had chance to fully land on her.  Smaug did not answer but it was obvious enough what his reason was; he couldn't.  

Whatever reason he changed to begin with, he could not shift back so quickly.  The time limit would be something very worth finding out but she was unsure how she would go about the answer.  Surely he would never explain the weakness to her himself so she would have to wait until he changed back, but even then, without knowing when he first shifted, it would be hard to know the exact time.  It was still useful information, something she could use and tuck away for later.  Well, if there was a later.  Though, he had no killed her yet, she would not count herself safe at this point.

Smaug did not hesitate as he leaped onto the statue, ascending in a similar way that she had taken down, though he took it with no hints of pain or strain on his body despite carrying her with him.  In each jump she felt all his muscles ripple with the power she could almost be brought to forget he possessed in a human looking form.  The skin changers told very little to others about their abilities, but they were known to be strong in either form, and it seemed the same in this case.  A dragon might have been powerful, but a human version of one was not far behind.  In a battle, she hated to say that his form could still easily subdue one of her people... or two or three.  He could cut through a good number of guards long before they had been able to defend themselves.  If he was not holding back his power the way he had done with her there was no doubt he would be a horrific warrior to face.

While he did not take the time to roll the stone back into place, she suspected he could still have done so in the smaller size, though likely with more effort.  His silence, his stone faced focus was disconcerting.  Before they were inside she had been glad of his silence but now it tied her stomach into a line of knots.  Though she desperately wanted to inquire about his intentions she did not have to courage to take a look into her own pending doom.  Each step he took was swifter than the last as he marched them lower and through winding passages.  She could find her way back but she had a feeling she would not be offered the opportunity to do so at any point.

The suspense of not knowing her fate was beginning to make her feel ill as she watched hallways after hallway pass.  He had a destination in mind and she did not care at all for what that might mean.  A set of manacles lying bunched on the floor farther down the hall did nothing to suggest otherwise.  Dwarf kingdoms very likely had torture rooms, she supposed.  Many other races did, so why not dwarfs?  There was progressively less lights as they entered the long untouched section of Erebor and she simply could not allow her mind to think very hard over the topic.  More chains littered the floor in various places and she was very sure this had been a prison at one time.  However long the trip took, it was much too long for her nerves.

At last though, he stopped before a door and dropped her to her feet, reminding her instantly of how tender they were.  His hand reached out as she watched with wrapped interest and he threw open a door.  Muilë turned her worried eyes into the room but she could see nothing inside at all. There were no windows, no vents, nothing at all that would provide light and the hallways was without a single torch.  Whatever awaited her, she would be receiving no warning.

"I have decided,"  his booming voice made her jump as he shattered the silence, "that I should give you new rooms.  The ones I gave you do not quite fit you."  

When he snatched a set of manacles from the floor, she was not surprised.  Rather than fight him like a child though, she held out her wrists and let him snap them into place.  She would not fight what she could not win and disgrace herself.  No, she would face whatever came to her with a relaxed posture.  A look into the dark room did make her quiver though, fully unsure what awaited her.  Perhaps she should only say that she would try to face her fate with no response.

"I now give you the _welcome_ you _should_ have had upon arrival, Molly.  Forgive my _poor_ manners for not offering it _sooner!_ " He flung her suddenly into the void and she stumbled, toppling to her knees within the pitch black space, "I _do_ hope you like these better."

Smaug was leaving her here?  In this place?  He was going to lock her away?

Muilë spun and lunged for the door in a desperate dive, catching hold of the nob with all her strength, "Wait, what is this place?"  The desperation bled into her voice even though she wished she could be strong enough not to let it free.

"I just told you,"  he purred through the crack, not letting her have an inch, "it is where you will be until I say otherwise."

"But there is no light in this room!"  While she knew she was nearly whining it did not stop her as her panic rose.  She had been prepared for a beating but she had not been mentally ready for this!

"I am aware."  Smaug droned, jerking the door from her grip and slamming it shut with a sickening thud.

Instinct drove her to the floor where the only trickle of light had chance to come in, "Are there candles?"  It took everything in her not to claw at the door as she heard the bolt slide home.

"Not that I am aware, but that should help you rest.  You seem in need of a calm environment to ease your defiant attitude, so I thought this would be best."

It took the very last of her will not to begin to beg him to let her out or plead to know when he would return.  Panic spiraled within her as she heard him walking away, each and every step like a knife twisting in her side.  Muilë remained there, hands pressed to the door, eyes fixed on the sliver of dim light edged under the door for a very long time.  Moving seemed to steep a task just as breathing was.  Each second brought the unseen walls a little closer, she could feel them squeezing her bit by bit, making it harder to take full breaths.  

It was likely useless, but now that he was away, she would try to open the door.  Her voice lifted very softly, persuading and pleading.  He anticipated this for she felt magia push back against her own in a strong spark, put in place by Smaug or the dwarfs in massive amounts.  He would not let her free herself so easily.  Real despair twisted inside her and her eyes slid closed, head resting against the door.  She was trapped, tied to this dark place until he deemed it enough time to adequately make her repentant, and she would be free not a moment before.  Indefinite imprisonment where she could see nothing and could go nowhere, that was a true horror to any with her blood.

Finally she eased herself fully to the floor, her chains rattling, trying to quell the terror and dread within her soul, head resting on the cold floor. It was then that she noticed exactly how cold the floor really was and how it turned her skin to ice in every place it touched.  She longed for her coat even if it was a dwarf's and longed for the bed she had been sleeping in not a few hours before.  The candles in that room were lovely as well, and the door that could not be locked.  The cold made her aware of each and every pain she gained over the night, and they were many.  Her body stiffened when she heard a noise from deeper within the room, alerting her to the horrifying fact the she was not alone in the room.  Whatever else shared the room, she simply did not care to know.  What worse than a dragon could it be?  It would be just like him to put something horrible in with her and the unknown frightened her too.  Eventually she would get up to investigate, but not yet. 

In a word, she was utterly and without question in misery.  Perhaps she had been a fool to fight him so hard, foolish not to promise him anything he wanted.  If she were honest, she was already shamefully close.  If he returned with demands of a similar pledge, she was unsure what her answer would be.  In the swallowing darkness and the unknown of the room, she might be far more willing to give him empty promises.  Oh, for the pride she had when she stood in the outside world!  Pitiful how swiftly the darkness could crumble her.

This dragon did indeed know too much about her people; knew to chain her and leave her in utter darkness.  He knew enough to steal away her bravery, knew how to reduce her to a tiny ball on the floor.  Eldar needed the light as the trees and flowers did.  Left without it too long and they wilted.  Even the prisons of their kind were never without light regardless of how deep they lead.  It was too cruel a punishment in their minds, preserved for only one known being.  But no, she refused to wilt and die upon his word!  She refused to let him break her... she refused.  A single tear trailed from the corner of her eye, leaving her cheek all the colder.  She would not be broken by trivial darkness, not so easily.  It would take more than this to shatter her will regardless of how she loathed this place. Though, perhaps she might do well to let him think that she had.  Yes, perhaps...

* * *

 She was crying now, he could hear the soft sound coming from the room.  His tail swayed and twitched back and forth over the stone, his body coiled tightly in the small hallways.  The sound did not fill him with the vindication he expected it would but it mattered little now.  It was too late to take any of it back and she earned the punishment.  It was her own doing and he was still angry with her!  She defied him and continued to do so again and again, which he could not allow.  His snout twisted in a silent snarl, angry over so many things.  The fact that he was not rejoicing over his first clear victory over her was unlike him.  Some tiny piece of him regretted stooping to foolishness like locking her away. It was not strong in the slightest, but the fact that he felt it at all enraged him and also baffled him.  

It made him doubt all his choices regarding her.  Perhaps he should have let her go, allowed her to run away before things became any worse or more confusing.  A huff left his nose and he shook out his shoulders before flexing his wings.  No, what he really should do was devour her and be done with it, but he did not want to do that yet.  She still interested him, her every move surprising him, and in some cases even impressed him.  Her unpredictability was what saved her because he enjoyed piecing her out.  The night had brought him to a second realization though, and that was his comparison to her being an addition to his kingdom.  While the idea struck him before it had only been driven deeper into his mind now.

He not only saw her as a puzzle, not only as an entertaining pet to be broken, but he also saw her as a shiny new addition to his treasures.  She was new and exciting and very different, which was why he was in a cramped hallway rather than spread comfortably over his gold.  There was a rather unfortunate and dangerous tendency in his race to become rather obsessed with things that caught their eye.  Gold was at the very top of the list but there were other things that could catch their interest, and she seemed to be one of them.  When he insisted on a sacrifice he never expected to find much more than a temporary play thing to enjoy a while before he grew bored. She exceeded his expectation in ways he had not thought possible.  He wanted to keep her now more than ever, her defiance driving him to madness, but also a deeper interest.

Given time though, even against that iron will of hers, he could mold her.  Metal would always bend once enough heat was applied, and that was exactly what he was doing now.  He needed her to break because only then could he count her as his treasure.  She was his pet now but he wanted actual possession over her, one he could only get from her accepting it as fact.  Once she said it with her own lips and meant it she would belong to him forever.

"Child of Eru, we shall see if you can be tamed... because I believe you can be."

She belonged to him and she would eventually see that even if he had to leave her in that room for a week! She would beg him to be her master, gladly surrendering to him and staying by his side for the rest of her days.  She said loyalty could not be gained by fear or unethical means but he did not agree.  Loyalty was what was given to the strongest creatures that could best protect what belonged to them.  Others followed the strongest, gave loyalty to the one that had the most power.  He would make her see that he was all of that and more once he brought her down out of the clouds.  She would be his!  A deep growl of possessive intent rang through his throat, his spines shifting to stand at attention.  He was king under the mountain! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this, but I told you he was no kitten! I warned you guys not to think he was. Um, but good news is, she knows his secret now! Woo.... right? Ok, don't kill me for this chapter, it will get better soon, I swear, mostly!
> 
> And, by the way, there is a move that works on men where they actually can't straighten their backs back up if they go down just so, they don't fall, but they can't pull something up and stand either, which is what I was referencing in the fight. Something about their bodies just malfunctions, though I don't know why.


	6. Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smaug is a very interesting character, very obsessive and changeable. Moody is what he is. He is warming, melting, actually, to her though, and he can't stand it! Though, notice it only takes her saying sorry to instantly calm him. Things are changing steadily and they will continue to shift... volatility in some cases. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter!

***Starlight and Cinders***

**Steps**

*Tolkein

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

The very clear feeling of hands, hot, scalding skin tugging at her shoulders was what first registered in her sleeping mind, fear right on its heels. There was no question in her now very alert mind exactly what body those hands belonged to and she was not looking for a repeat of the night before.  Muilë was surging forward, clawing and kicking at him before her eyes were fully open.  Those enormous hands shoved her down against the table hard enough she heard the very first stages of wood splintering but it did not deter her, spurring her to fight harder.  His full lips twisted into an ugly snarl, teeth bared for display, dark brows twisted into a deep frown.

His long fingers latched onto the chain at her wrists and with a lazy flick of one hand, her body was flung from the table that served as her refuge during the night. She landed with a bruising force onto the stone, her head and arms falling over the skeleton of a dwarf chained there long ago, the brittle bones shattering beneath her.  Being thrown stung and the shattered bone pricked at her skin like rocks.  During the night she discovered that body as well as the three others, around the same time the rats began to try to nibble her the way they had those bones.  Putting a bit of magia into the table to repel them had been the only way she kept her skin in the darkness.  The rats were gone now that he was here.

Smaug snarled a warning before his fingers clamped like jaws over the back of her neck and jerked her to her feet.  Both hands shoved at his chest defensively, her body leaning away with all her might as he jerked her to him.  While she thrashed he simply locked his fist into her hair, forcing her to stare back into his impenetrable, unfeeling gaze.  The elleth flinched, curling in on herself when he lifted his free hand, palm up and ready to strike her.  If he wanted, she knew he could knock her head from her shoulders with the blow.

But he never brought it down, keeping it erect as a threat, "I see your mood has yet to improve but I suggest you cease this irritating display before I become annoyed."  The orotund, bored voice rumbled though the room like a war call.

She stayed perfectly still, holding her breath as she stared submissively at the floor.  It was time to be the compliant elf and remember she was speaking to a king. While she would never, never _surrender_ , never _belong_ to him, she could respect his authority and power.  Letting him win was her only, though slim chance at finishing the mission she began.  If her time trapped in darkness revealed anything it was to give her the understanding that she had to live long enough to stop him.  Innocent lives would continue to be lost if he remained free to do as he wished.  Greed was a powerful drive and eventually the mountain would not be enough for him and he would rain his fire again upon other lands.  If she could stop that from happening it was worth giving away her pride.

This creature felt like a large fire placed before her on snowy, freezing nights of travel.  His touch, though unwelcome, was like being slowly curled into a blanket. Over the hours in the night she had forgotten how cold she was in the room and forgotten how his heat felt as it pushed against her to overwhelm her senses.  Her skin felt like thawing ice next to his touch and she nearly expected to melt. It was oppressive and too much at once after so long without it.

"You are filthy... still covered in that repulsive blood."  His nose twitched in disgust, nostrils flaring in that animal way that let his true nature shift to the surface.

"It's your fault for killing the humans."  She muttered quietly, lips hardly moving to form the words.

He gave her no answer, jerking her along with him as he exited the room.  The wound on her foot still ached and her injuries from the night before were only bothering her further after being tossed about upon awakening.  It took her a moment to rectify herself, straighten her posture as he pulled her tender body into more motion than she was ready for. Not a word was said as he marched her down the hall, snatching up a long chain, wrapping it tightly in one hand as they went.  Prudence and self preservation prevented her from asking his reason or questioning him at all.

Smaug was clean, she noted.  The blood was gone without a trace from him, tanned leather replaced by midnight blue cloth ensemble, though it was cut no different than the last, a human style rather than dwarf. His dark, wild curls were washed and free to sway with his motion, not stuck to his head or matted with blood as she had first seen it.  The dark cloth he wore did nothing to add color to his skin.  Though his skin was still nearly without color, alabaster the way many elves were, it was pasty white in the darkness of the halls; it was free from blood as well.  Muilë could not help eyeing his hands to study them but she found no signs of dirt in the cuticles or even under the nails.  He was scrubbed clean.

 That might be useful information; his distaste for dirt.

Those mighty arms jerked her suddenly to a stop, nearly throwing her to the ground for how swiftly he stopped.  If the puncture on her foot had not had the time over her stay in darkness to heal there would be new blood added to the human stench for him.  She sensed he enjoyed surprising her though even if she reacted only very slightly.  She gave him little more than a widening of the eyes but the satisfaction bleeding from his spoke clearly enough for even a human to read.

In one swift motion, the chain had been attached to her shackles, adding a leash to his already humiliating hold over her.  She licked at her dry lips, struggling to bring the downward twist of her brows back to normal.  Oh, no, she would remain stoic.  While she decidedly did not enjoy being reduced to having a lead like some untrustworthy horse she still refused to give him the actual satisfaction of knowing how much it annoyed her.  No, for all intensive purposes, that bothered her not in the least.

The chain swayed noisily back and forth, his fingers deliberately undulating it where he kept it decidedly silent before he attached it.  Unless she missed her guess, the metal rattling irritated his senses as badly as it did hers, but he would ignore his own irritation just to gain hers.  Muilë glanced at the chain before looking up into his face with doe eyes, expression serine as a mountain stream.  It annoyed him, she could see the twitch at the corner of one eye.

"After your escape attempt, however ill chosen, I see it as a necessity to keep you in better access when you are out of your room."  Smaug droned as if speaking to a wayward child.

With him watching her so carefully, she dared not react to the obvious fact that he intended to return her to that horrible room again later.  No, she would keep a stiff upper lip about the entire thing.  Submitting did not mean she had need of crying at his feet over the threats he issued so freely.  If she was careful what she let him see, perhaps she could convince him she was not as frightened by the darkness as she indeed was.  Perhaps fear was not so much the issue as dread and despair were, but it was unpleasant either way.

"I was not trying to flee."  Muilë attempted to cross her arms but wound up tangling them more than anything so she gave up.

The chain was no longer swaying, hanging still and blessedly quiet now that his hand was still.  She won this round. He relented first.

"Indeed?"  He arched one of those low, defined brows incredulously, "Pray tell, what then?"

What reason did she have for lying?  "I could hear the humans cry.  It was not hard to deduce what their reason for it was when that door was opened."

"So you thought to flee while I was thus occupied."  Those lips twisted in a sneer, eyes narrowing to slits.

"No, I thought to stop you."  There was no hesitation in her voice as she met his glare.

"Did you?"  His breath was an open furnace gusting over her skin as he sighed, "How exactly did you intend to stop me? I find myself curious."

Her eyes dropped away quickly, "I had no exact plan as to the means, only that I needed to do something."

"For one of a blood famed to be so wise, you are remarkably foolish. To assume yourself capable of preventing it had I so chosen to devour the entire populous of humans in the vicinity is tantamount to a human child hoping to stop a Mûmakil."  His sneer had taken a turn to bring it far closer to a snarl.  "Furthermore, the humans I killed... did you once stop to consider why they were so drunk on wine?  Did you not realize the simple fact that those were the same creatures laughing and dancing to celebrate your death?  They were drunk from too much merriment over my supposed act of devouring you!"

"I thought it a likelihood, considering the time."  She answered simply, ignoring all but his question.

Those eyes narrowed further,  "Yet you intended to save them?  You are more than foolish."

They were moving again in the next breath, and he was dragging her in a familiar direction, one they had traveled before.  It was one that she supposed she could handle but not one she enjoyed the time before.  It was not unexpected.  However, she could only hope he did not find the stone hidden in the waters somehow.  It should have been deep within the murky depths, but she could not be sure how keen his senses might be.  There was nothing to do but hope.  Protesting would only make him suspicious and it would save her nothing for he would do as he pleased.

The chain pulled her forward, shackles digging into her wrists, but he kept it tight, the excess swirled around his hand to prevent the sound. With his long legs it was a task to keep pace considering he was taller than she was.  The more frustrated he was, the more swift his steps, so they were trotting through the kingdom at quite a speed.  The passage leading to the depths seemed a longer trek when not carried and when his form was no longer so massive.  It gave her a better idea of how deep it would be.  There was quite a space to cover regardless of how high she climbed.  In the end, she might need Smaug himself to help her complete the task against him.  The key would be tricking him into bringing her to the places she needed to be.

The wide stone slabs grew progressively colder the lower they strayed until her feet felt stiff, brittle, and tingling.  Without realizing it, she found herself clinging to his arm for stability and it was astonishing that he had yet to pull away.  Perhaps he allowed it because he could see her struggle and took a modicum of pity on her. After all, she was forced to take two or three steps for every one of his, and he did not slow for her smaller stature. 

At last the passage opened wide to the familiar lake hidden below, the carved out sections still speckled with traces of burns.  It was proof that he had chased those trapped inside even into this place, chasing them as a cat chased a mouse.  This one was a rather dangerous cat too.  None had died here though, she saw and felt on hints of death, despite the scorched stone.  The waters offered those inhabitants of old the slightest protection even if it did them no service in the longer game.

Though she was less than joyous at the sight of those waters she could do little to deny her pleasure at the ending of the trip down. The passage had clearly flooded and receded a few too many times over its years of vacancy, the water marks reaching all the way to the lower half of the stairs. Perhaps the water marks were so high thanks to the inhabitant of the mountain as well.  So much added mass would cause quite a rise, and he clearly did keep himself clean.

They had stopped and he whirled on her, long fingers snatching at the dwarf coat around her shoulder, shredding it with seemingly no effort.  Still she gave him little response, standing still while he took away the only warm thing she had. Smaug jerked the tattered coat from her shoulders and shoved her into the icy water in a single motion. Crashing nearly to her knees with the force, water sloshing up to her chest, she stumbled on the steps, body reluctant to respond thanks to the shock from the sudden cold.  There was little she could do but gasp for breath and tremble where she stood.  Her body ached instantly, the bumps on her flesh rising enough to sting, her tender muscles convulsing withing her frame.  The uncontrollable shaking came as soon as she was in the water, the persistent chattering of her jaw soon following.

"Bathe."  Was his simple command as he turned again and left her there, "I shall only be a moment.  I expect the stench to be removed fully upon my return."

With him no longer in sight she allowed herself a proper glare.  Dragons had quite the nerve!  Just because they were powerful did not mean they were the final authority on everything under the sun but they seemed to believe it was so.  While she had only met one dragon she expected they all might be very much the same.  Full of themselves, the lot of them!

A hard shiver ran through her and she glared all the more.  The water was so cold it could not have been much above freezing temperature.  It did not thrill her but she knew she dared not even try to leave the water for it would only incur his wrath upon return.  A few minutes of warmer air would not be worth it in the longer scheme.  With her fingers stiff from the cold it was little better than impossible to rinse out her hair but she tried, hoping walking in circles would be enough to get the rest of the blood off her person.

The long chain dragged roughly over the floor of the bathhouse, catching over every tiny imperfection as she moved.  It was a loud and irritating noise even when it was muffled under the water.  While she had no idea why, considering she hoped not to have it on long enough to need to worry, her mind continually pondered over how quickly the chain would rust the longer she stayed in the water.  

The stench of death had to be removed though, rust or no rust; if not he would likely just make her stay in the freezing water until her blood froze into solid ice.  He was not exactly known for being the understanding sort of creature nor was he exactly worried for the comfort of any but his own.  She could count on being cold for quite a while more.  It was better than being roasted alive, if only moderately.

She would not mind taking a swim in his heated pile of gold right about this time.  That sort of swimming would be welcome when she was shivering like a single leaf in a wind storm. 

It was not long before she heard the sound of his heavy feet pattering down the stone and she waited pensively to see that head of dark hair arrive into sight.  She watched his every motion; the unshakable poise of his broad shoulders, the sway of his straight torso, and the back and forth twist of his narrowed hips.  The way he carried himself was indeed like a young, polished king, regardless of his disdain for humanized forms.  The long legs he possessed carried him effortlessly down to the landing before the water where she waited for him with less that a pleasant smile.

"Take those filthy rags off."  He held up a long blanket between his hands, dangling it above the floor in waiting for her to crawl back to him.  "I will allow you to put this around yourself for now."

Allow her?  He would allow her, as if it were a favor?

The elleth glared back at his impassive face, "Why do you do this?  Why must I humiliate myself at your whim?"  She turned now from her pacing to face him, chin aloft, "What if I refuse to simply bow and scrape for your every order?"

The dark flames springing from his eyes made her wish she had said nothing as he dropped the blanket in a heap and stepped into the water. Muilë  took several steps back as he advanced, water sloshing around his granite body, those long legs brought him strides closer much sooner than she could gain her retreat, eyes fixed like the force of death onto her as she floundered.  It was ill advised to taunt him in his human form, very ill advised!  It was hard to take even a single breath under his stare and swiftly moving closeness.  Before she could turn to run he was before her, impressive height letting him stare down at her to further intimidate her.

His voice was thick and dangerously sonorous, like the promise of pain from the lips of killers, "I have been tolerant, elfling, but you continue to try my goodwill."

She whined when his hands fell to her shoulders, lifting the wet fabric into his hold before jerking it so swiftly she could not so much as catch herself, helplessly making her fall against him.  The sound of the material shredding was unmistakable and she clamped her eyes closed, waiting for it to be her turn, but he only flung the ruined garment to the side with disgust.  The elf drew back swiftly, pulling her bound arms to her chest and sinking lower into the water for protection.  What she expected him to do, she did not exactly know, she only knew she wanted to be as far from him as possible.  Terror was biting at her mind and driving her progressively nearer to hysteria.  

At least she still had her shift, thin as it was, though one of the shoulder straps was ripped along with the dwarf clothing.

Water suddenly hit her mouth as her body lurched downward and deeper into the pool.  The shackles bit into her wet skin as she choked and struggled to regain her footing.  Muilë tugged at the chain but he leaned harder on one leg, grinding his foot down over the links of her bondage.  Her cheeks grew hot as she was forced to step closer in order to pull her arms up again, turning her head sharply away.  She did not trust the water to hide nearly enough.

At that, a glottal, hitching laugh rolled through the vacant cavern, bringing her eyes back to his face as he spoke, "Oh, I see."  He rumbled, lips quirked in menacing humor, "It is that elvish dignity you hold so precious, your carefully maintained propriety."  His head shook from side to side with another laugh, "Do not flatter yourself for I care nothing for your feeble, spindly, weak form.  I shall not sneak glances at your pitiful body.  I find it repulsive!"

She looked fully at him now, refraining from mentioning that he was currently occupying a similar, though male form of the same makings.  That would be ill timed even if it were truth.

"However, what you must learn, _my elfling_ , " the chain jerked and forced her toward him, "is that you are _never_ to **_defy_** me!"

She screamed as he descended on her, one hand locked around her throat and the other latched onto her hands as he shoved her head under the water, the burning of cold engulfing.  The water was biting, like pouring shards of glass into her mouth, catching in her throat but unable to even be swallowed when his fingers were so tightly preventing it.  She could hold her breath much longer than a human but the panic of the moment made her feel utterly desperate as she stared up from the water.  While she did not thrash, she desperately wanted to.  The desire to run was so, so strong it gagged her as much as the water.  It tasted to dirt, ash, sulfur and grass too, not like the waters of home.

Suddenly she was up again, coughing and gasping and clawing at his arm.  His clothes were as wet as hers had been now, drenched to just below his neck.  He glared venomously at her before forcing her down again and shaking her back and forth under the waves.  All she could do was cling to his arm, trying desperately to ground herself in the violent chaos of his anger.  The second time under seemed longer but it might have been from the way he refused to let her catch a moment with her feet under her nor a moment of stillness until he brought her up again.

"Please,"  she rasped as she clutched at his hand, "I'm sorry!"

His blue-green eyes stared into her for a long moment before he leaned over, sniffing in long drags of air, "Passable."  Smaug muttered before straitening, "At least you don't reek of humans anymore.  You just smell of stagnant water, which is moderately more tolerable."

The sudden change in his mood startled her and she could only gape at him as he dropped his hold on her and sauntered back up the steps.  He retrieved the blanket and again held it up, canting his head in invitation.

"You are cold, are you not?"  His expression was neutral and relaxed now as if nothing had happened, "It would be warmer out of the water."

That was true, but he was outside the water which made them equally unappealing.  If she neglected to obey, however, he would be returning, so it was best to do as she was told o avoid a repeat of un-pleasantries. 

Tentatively, she took a step toward him, and then another, each with a pause to slow her progress. Smaug gave her no reaction, regardless. He did not even seem impatient as he waited for her, simply holding the blanket out for her, stoic as a statue. It unnerved her when her was emotionless, disquieted her when he afforded her no way to determine what might come from him next. The dramatic shift from his rage to his tranquil stare left her unsure what to prepare for. 

While he did seem relaxed in the moment she was certain a single step the wrong direction would have him in a new fit of fury. How was she to read his reactions if he offered none? The she elf had always been rather skilled in reading others, elf or any kind. There were things about every creature to read even if they spoke no words. Dragons proved thus to be a difficult subject but she had been learning rather well in her time as his captive. This blank, relaxed face he showed her now was not one she found herself able to comprehend as of yet. There surely were things she could glean if given enough time but she rather needed the understanding sooner than later.

Muilë proceeded up the stairs, eyes fixed carefully on him, watching for the smallest of twitches, but none came. Against every warning voice screaming inside her head, she walked up the steps, the water receding from her like a waterfall. Her eyes fell to the blanket as she stopped before him, close enough to let him touch her and to feel his glorious heat, but he still did not twitch.

The voices of wisdom protested farther when she slowly turned her back to him as his lack of motion clearly indicated he wanted her to. Her shaking hands were clapped tightly to her chest, though the shivering was only partly due to cold, and she stood still in wait.

Smaug did move, at last, his arms falling effortlessly over her shoulders, the blanket being brought around her. His hands lingered at her throat, but not in a threat, simply allowing her to take the blanket from his hold. Her breath did not come until his arms had glided away and taken place at his sides. Clutching the warmth of the thick cloth as close as possible, she turned again to face the humanoid dragon as well as the stairs. Her earth tone eyes did not lift to find his but she felt his gaze keenly enough. 

The great creature turned without a word, ascending his way slowly back to another level. There was no need for him to instruct her to follow for he knew she would as well as she did. She wanted to leave the cold and he was warmth. 

Muilë let her feet draw her up, eyes downcast, watching his heels rise and fall, watching the motion of his long feet, taking note of the way each thick tendon flexed. It would not be so difficult to forget what he was when watching this calm, graceful, human before her if not for his sporadic shows to prove otherwise. In this form, he reminded her very much of her people, perhaps a far harsher and vastly more cruel version of Haldir or potentially Feren. She had seen many forms of men in her time but this one was indeed unique, different from any she had yet encountered. Part of her felt that she had seen him in each and every power hungry king, crazed ruler with no logic remaining with their consciousness, seen it in the evil force driving so many cruel creatures turned into monsters by their own evil. Yet he was somehow a bread all his own. A large part of her was privileged to be one of so few to match wits with a beast of his blood, even if she would not live long enough to glory in her accomplishment. The fact that she was still alive spoke rather well of her wit and resourcefulness. It would run out soon, but she would hold firm so long as she could. While she awaited the inevitable though, she needed to hurry along her plan. With his increasingly erratic behavior, so decreased her lifespan. 

At least her final moments in Middle-Earth would be ones to remember, and they would sing songs for her. She would sail to Valinor knowing her mark in the world had been good; at least, that would be the case if she was successful. If she failed she would be only one more death to count upon his sins.  The trip up the steps, just following his motion, dragging her own chain at her own pace, did not seem nearly as long.

Wise, calculating, cold, though insane eyes turned, his head following, "You remind me of a young tree on a windy day, shaking pitifully...but still managing to stand."

She could not decide if that was intended as an insult or complement, so she only smiled slightly in response. 

"Tell me," he cocked his head, just the way his true form would have, expression sharp though questioning, "do you require sustenance yet or have I more time before I must feed you again?"

It took her entirely too long to formulate an answer, partly because she was not sure of her answer and partly because she could scarcely make her lips move. "I suppose I would not decline offer of food, but I am well enough without." 

He nodded curtly and continued walking, leading her down a yet explored pathway in the enormous underbelly of Erebor. While she found herself curious, she again asked no questions of him. It was best not to know the tortures waiting for her. If he had no ill plans, those would be a pleasant surprise. Even the great Lady Galadriel did not seek answers to some questions. The wise knew when not to ask as well as when to inquire, the trademark of an elf; the other, of course, their ability to answer questions in both the negative and positive at once. That particular skill had served her well with this "king" more than once. Answers were too powerful to be given easily. 

A few times he managed to put her off balance, stealing her mind from her, a skill of **his** people, she guessed, but she could hold it close yet. The important thing about being struck was how well one recovered from it and how quickly. No matter how many times he hit her, she simply had to recover and gain back her feet, she had determined that during her time in the darkness. Absolutely, she always had to recover. He wanted her to fall and remain down but she would give him no such satisfaction nor victory. Fear was inevitable but it could not be allowed to take root; to be faced but never lingered in. Fear could be bypassed, acknowledged, but circumvented. To do that would be to win, so she could walk by his side, and she would hold her chin firm. Her people had faced dragons before in their history and she could do so as they had. 

The cavern opened once again into a much larger space, something holding great resemblance to a hive. The massive walls and stone curled round into a bowl riddled with at least a hundred holes that could only have been rooms with the elaborately carved balconies of stone at the front of each.  They were dark on the inside so it was impossible to be fully sure.  Tattered white, red, green, or yellow curtains still hung like ghosts at the doors.  Steps lead up to each little yawning, darkened indentation.  Her eyes traveled slowly over it, taking it in and mentally making this among her own records of the hiding places the kingdom held. She was developing quite a mental map. 

"The day I arrived, quite a number of humans from Dale, the nobility, were visiting. I know not the reason, some form of meeting, disputes over land, perhaps. At any rate, the humans were staying here, in this hall, on many of the levels. Thror kept this section for dignitaries. The way the room is constructed they could all be in a single wing with rooms to themselves, but there is only one entrance, allowing him to keep immaculate watch over them while still seeming hospitable."

His voice was actually quite beautiful when he was not angry, simply speaking conversationally like a normal person.  That calming, dark pool of a warm hot spring water trickling from his lips would be pleasant enough to listen to most any day.  It seemed rare that it ran free without tone of threat or menace, but she enjoyed his conversational voice.

"That is what this place is?"  Her head tipped to look up at his profile, carefully moving to stand beside him.

"It was.  Quite a smart way to keep guests under control and monitor them.  I have found hallways traveling just behind those many rooms as well that were likely used to listen in on conversations without being seen."  Smaug continued,  gazing over the dome, "A paranoid little man, he was."

"So it would seem."  Muilë agreed, shifting the blanket to hold it closer around her body, stubbornly ignoring the water dripping around her and the increased chill of being trapped in soaked material.

His eyes fell down to her at last, moving up and down her as he investigated, "But they previous occupants of the rooms are the reason I am showing you this place."

Her brow arched slightly, curious to know the lessons relevance, "What have they to do with the present?"

"They fled in frantic droves when whispers of my beating wings reached the city.  Unlike the dwarfs they had utterly no reason to stay and engage me in any form of combat and so they ran, leaving all they brought behind."  His broad chest expanded with his deeper intake of air, "Though you could not hope to fit those willow branches you call arms and legs into the clothing of a dwarf, humans come far closer to fitting your size."  Long fingers extended outward in invitation, "It seems more logical to offer you what you can find among the human garments remaining."

"You wish me to search each room until I find something to dress in?"  Her brows creased in confusion, head cocking to one side.

"That was my thought, yes."  He conceded facetiously, hiding a smirk only just.

She lifted her hands palm up, "Not to denounce your generosity for offering but how am I to try anything on while bound?"

That single brow lifted as he stared at her, "Believe it or not, I already considered that inevitable hindrance and have already produced a solution."  With that, he held up the key and reached for her bonds. The tips of his fingers were warm against her wrists as he held them there, slipping the large key into each slot, twisting and freeing her.

Her wrists remained suspended before her as she stared at him, unsure what to make of his shifting moods, "You intend to simply let me free?"

"For now."  Curls swaying into his eyes, he tipped his head in a nod, "Though like my predecessor, I shall be waiting at the door.  I have no need to fear another attempt at escape when I know the only door."

Unsure or not she saw no reason to refuse his offer of release, temporary or otherwise.  It felt glorious to have the heavy chains removed, freed of the pressure on her skin.  She rubbed at her wrists as she walked slowly to the first set of steps she came to, waiting for him to change him mind every second but climbing anyway.  When he did nothing to hinder her, she stepped into the room, light from outside making it only just passable to see.  In its time, the room had been quite nice.  Decorated rather like the kings, though clearly not nearly so elaborate or large.  It would have been able to accommodate one or two people, but no more.  

The blanket fell to the floor in a heap as she opened up the standing closet to investigate the content.  There were dresses inside, copious amounts of them for what had to have been a short step.  Humans were impractical, she supposed that had to be the reason.  They were soft, at least most of them.  Two wear rather rough and she could not see anyone, woman or man, enjoying wearing them.  She skipped those two as potentials.  The first she came to was rather loud in color, but all of them were. It was the softest though, so she could endure the horrid color patter of red and random patches of other white lace sewn onto the silk.  The lower part of the dress flared out of puff up, which also seemed impractical to her but she had seen many wear it that way in more than human culture,

She took it down and let it pool on the floor before stepping into it.  Her shift would dry soon enough and she refused to part with the last thing she had of her own, ripped or not.  It took a bit of tugging, twirling, bending, and stretching, but eventually she managed to get the dress on and buttoned.  It was not to best fit it the world, lose in fit, but it was warm on her cold body and it was long enough for her, so she rejoiced.

Spotting a little bag she knew the women called a purse, she scooped up as many items as she could find for later use, including a hairbrush. There might not be another opportunity to gather things for herself so this moment seemed as opportune as any.  His mood might have been holding after his little outburst but she found herself with no confidence that he would remain charitable in any respect.

With swishing skirts, she marched herself back down the steps, knowing he was waiting and would grow impatient if she did not return fast enough for him taste.  His barging in to get her would not be the most pleasant of experiences so she thought to be quick about her return even if she was not fully ready to rejoin him at this time.  Being away from him would be nice but there was his inevitable reaction to deal with which made it less so.

"No."  Smaug barked from the hallways door, leaned up against it with arms and ankles crossed like an impatient adolescent.

"No?" She repeated more softly, "To what?"

"You resemble a poisonous mushroom.  Find a different one!"  His head tipped up, eyeing her down his nose somehow even though she was a level over his head.  "I simply refuse to look upon you in that."

She could not resist the smirk on her lips nor the humor in her voice, "That might be reason enough to keep it."

The slight frown on his face vanished suddenly and she could tell he was struggling to hold back a returning grin, "Find something less sickening."

"If you wish, my lord."  Her smile was even more vivid as she turned around to seek out something different.

The dragon was a confusing creature; not good but not wholly bad either.  He had good points hidden with the rest.  Muilë reopened the doors, sifting more carefully through this time in search of something he might find palatable.  While she could not say why he found her mismatched and tied together  clothing f the dwarf king more pleasant to look upon, she could not deny the dress had been unappealing to the eye.  She took it for its softness and no other reason.  Perhaps he would like something of a solid color, perhaps a little simpler.

Why was she worried about what he would like to see her in?  He called her repulsive not long ago.

Tugging free a deep green dress of a strange fabric, one soft but not nearly so smooth as the red one, she began the interesting process of taking off the first.  It stuck to her wet shift as if it had mind of its own, refusing to free her, and she had more than enough confinement for one day!  After several minutes struggling and thrashing about, she gave up and kicked and clawed her way out, rendering the dress rather useless for the future.  Why humans made clothing they could never hope to get out of alone when it was so simple to make a dress that was practical was well beyond her understanding.  They might have thought it elegant but she found it pitiful, as did dragons, apparently. 

The next dress was lighter, less fabric, and buttons in the front, which made it a great deal easier to manage.  She was slower coming down this time, taking time to brush her hair and dry it as best she could.  If he came after her this time she could simply state that she had been following his direction to be presentable.  The ruined dress was rather absorbent material and made for a good enough towel. Her shift was much dryer as well so that dress had been good for a few things, though not many, and not for wearing. Her eyes closed as she stared at the elf in the mirror, unsure what to do with herself.  The elf in the mirror looked quite tired and drained and unsure.  She really needed to find a way to improve that so she might yet recognize herself more easily even in the dark.

It was difficult to know how to walk when not truly knowing the path before her.  She was walking in the darkness and she had no idea if the way she was taking was the best possible rout.  What was she to do with herself and this shifter?  What could she do with herself if she failed?  How-

"That is passable."  Smaug muttered from the bedroom door, making her whirl to face him.

He stood calmly watching her and she forced calm back into her own posture, resuming the brushing of her hair before turning back to the mirror as if she were not afraid.  She could watch him as she stared at the reflection of each of them.  Admittedly, she studied him far more closely than she did the strokes of the brush.  He did remind her of her own kind in the way he carried himself with grace and strength, controlled and powerful, but effortless in his every motion.  There was beauty about this form as well as his true one, she could admit.

"I am glad you like it better.  I never cared to look like fungus, in general."  She smiled at her own reflection knowing he was staring back into it.

Though it was through a mirror, they somehow managed to look into each other's eyes, though this way felt much safer than normal.  The corners of his mouth pulled up, rewarding her with his humor.  When he smiled she could admit he was more beautiful.

"It could be better but there is little that can be done about the human's way of dress."  He moved closer, stepping in behind her and flooding the space with his heat.  "At least you found something that would not burn my eyes at the sight."  His fingers reached out, threading through her hair very, very slowly in long strokes.

The elleth did not dare to move for quite some time, simply watching him comb her strands with his fingers as if he were somehow fascinated by them.  "I do try my best."  

Her words broke him from his revere and he stepped away, "Now then, since you are clothed, let us go."

"Of course."  She stood to her feet in a fluid, effortless motion and followed close behind him.

Where he would escort her next, she had utterly no idea but she found herself less frightened of it now than before.  It was unlikely that he would go to the trouble of clothing her were he intent to torture or kill her today.  This would clearly earn her a little more time.  She could be glad of the small things.  She wished she knew his intentions but she no longer had even the slightest idea.  Those answers would come with time alone.  Until then she could do nothing but wait for his shifting moods to roll one into the next.

"It is good to see that you were victorious."  He commented lightly as he walked, "I could hear the mighty battle you were having with the fabric."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, I don't have a beta so I'm sorry for any and all mistakes.


	7. Small Shattering Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry all, I know the last chapter was terrible but I'm trying to do better. I'm in a funk with writing but I'm trying not to suck.

***Starlight and Cinders***

**Small Shattering Things**

*Tolkein/Jackson

Smaug

*BBC Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes (Human form), Molly Hooper (aka Muilë)

* * *

Muilë walked primly behind her captor as if all had been forgotten about the night before as well as the old bathhouse. He knew better. Despite her regal form and easy glide he could feel her tension and smell her low brewed anger. While she acted as if she was perfectly at ease, he knew it was a facade. The elleth's acting was quite good but she would not fool him so simply with mere relaxation of her posture. She was still angry and she was still afraid, which was rather the intention.  
  
Her hair was still damp, lighter and fluffier on top and darkening into strands nearly black at the tips; the strands flowed over her shoulders like roots coiling in the earth. He liked it no less that way, it almost made her seem more primal; less like spring and more like the turning of autumn. The spark in her dark eyes could not have been hidden even if she covered them with a veil. Even when angry she was never less a child of the Valar, but something was honed to a sharper edge this way. It was not disagreeable.

Females, Smaug decided, were difficult creatures to deal with. They never behaved the way he expected them to, regardless of species. He was beginning to discover that the harder he pushed her, the more she responded in kind. When he was quiet, she matched that as well. His aggression was matched and returned, even if it was generally careful and with far less power. It was interesting! He desired exploration of exactly what reactions his own would draw. While she tended to confuse and surprise him, he was still learning. Better still, he was also able to surprise  _her_ , leaving her confused by his sudden shifts, with pleased him to no end.

Low light in the hallway had his eyes flickering bright each time a passing torch played and danced within to reflect out but she no longer appeared to notice, even when he glanced directly at her. The shifting moods were not all born of intent to test her. If he was honest, he found himself to be entirely conflicted. He could scarcely decide how to think or feel or move when she was near. She ignited the fires within him and cooled them in the next breath. She made him want to kill her and then she made him want to lick any wounds he had given her.   
  
Giving over to his more tender leaning desires would show nothing but weakness, which he could not allow. Yet he did have those urges; urges to touch her, to smile, to go out and scour the lands to find gifts she might enjoy, but he would not indulge. More still, he refused to fly off as his instincts desired simply to find things to surprise her with. Refusing that inexplicable need however lead him to find things in his own kingdom to offer her. Why he did this, or even felt the need was beyond his knowledge!

While dragon males always offered their intended gifts, lavishing all manner of treasures at their feet to prove loyalty and coveted strength, that could not be his reason. He had no feelings for the elleth. She was no dragon he might woo and keep, she was a play thing and future meal. Clearly it had nothing to do with interest on his part or hers. Yet, the urges to impress her were growing stronger, even if that could not possibly be his reason. It was not strictly helpful for her though considering his tendency to lash out when he knew no other way to respond. 

Obviously he had been deprived living company too long and it had done strange things to his senses. It made him crave her approval and drove him to do things strictly to make her happier; in turn, making him do things to make her miserable in order to balance it. It might also be trickery of some sort on her part, some elvish magia, which he would not fall prey to so easily. He was better than that!

It was time to unbalance her once again, time to shift the perceived power back onto his side. He needed to remind her which of them was dominant and in control at all times, he had to be sure she could not run away from him ever again. His fingers reached out and removed the chains from the little notch on the wall he had hung them on. He felt her freeze in place even before he turned around to face her again.  
  
He could still smell the water clinging to her, masking her true scent only marginally. The fresh earth, flowers, grass, and wind still clung to her like they were part of her, growing inside her where he could not see.

The broad and toothy smile he gave her did nothing to lessen to tight coils of muscle in her shoulders, "I nearly forgot. You are missing these." Smaug stepped before her, forcing her to tilt her head to maintain her stubbornly held eye contact.

She refused to look away from his face even as he jingled the chain near her ear. His eyes drifted down to her hands as she held them out to him, palms facing up. His free hand slid under them, cradling her wrists tenderly as he unintentionally marveled at how small her hands were when placed in his own, but that revere was better spent on other things, he was well aware. The skin at his fingertips was soft, like fine silk and it gave him just a momentary thought to pursue it. She was so small and delicate and he just could not help the way he gently, nearly reverently, placed a shackle over the beating pulse of her wrist.

The elf did not pull away as he locked the second half into place over her other wrist. For one so small, she was rather brave. He would admit privately to admiring that about her, the part of her that refused to cower before him even though he knew he frightened her. Child of Eru or not, severing the tie her body held to Middle Earth would never be painless even if her spirit was immortal, the body could be destroyed. Elves were brave but they could avoid fear no less than any other race.

The dragon dropped his touch from her once he realized he had been cradling her hands in his own and he stalked away, leaving her to carry her own chain even if that was not the hardest of tasks. He could hear her padding behind him calmly, unaffected by his continual shifts of mood. She was so calm, subdued now, as if she had been waiting for him to do exactly what he had and now she could relax.

Smaug lead her back to his horde, not even glancing back as she entered with him, listening as her feet sank into the warm coins. "Stay." Was his rather simple instruction as he continued to his destination.

The motion of the coins stopped and he knew she was still, which pleased him to no end. He enjoyed it when she obeyed him even if it should not shock him seeing as he was the king of this underworld. Any with a mind should follow his word to the very letter if they intended to live for he was the greatest of creatures and the strongest of dragons. His word was law and everyone knew it well.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end the way his spines would have in his other form as he mentally preened. Though, speaking of his other form, he was beginning to feel the tug of it in his core. It was calling him back, ready to welcome him to his natural appearance, indicating he could return now if he so desired. While he could remain in this human form a while more, let the tension in his gut grow until he was forced to change himself, there was no reason to linger. He could do what he intended in either form. The elf was left in his treasure room and he was already well away from her eyes as he slipped low into the storage of the old castle. She had not followed him and he was perfectly safe to shift. Why hesitate? He felt safest in his scales than skin. Why draw out this shape longer than he had already? It already served its purpose. Why indeed should he hesitate? There was no reason.

* * *

The elleth watched in silence as Smaug sauntered away. He looked like every other haughty king and she held no regret at seeing him go. She could only hope he gave her no reason to regret his later return. Her eyes traveled swiftly over the large and glittering expanse of his treasure room. Perhaps she could make an attempt to plant another stone while he was away and ignore the risks. Even in chains, she should be capable of climbing rather swiftly. Though everything in the room was vaulted and high there was also no shortage of beams, arches, or statues to climb. There must be an advantageous space in all the mass expanse of the overly extravagant horde that could comfortably fit a dragon, a crevasse somewhere high she could sneak a stone into.   
  
The treasury was the farthest place from the entrance, farthest from the first stone she left upon coming down to this world. Were she simply to climb higher on one of those massive statues carved into the walls, surely it would be close enough. They did not have to be perfectly aligned. In this room, she obviously could leaving nothing while he was watching so this could be her only chance to plant it.

Decision already made, Muilë sprinted over the coins, coiling the long chain around her right arm as she went. She cast only one look at the door before throwing herself into her task. Fear would not hold her from her task, on that she swore! The speed she built in the run as well as the high hills of coins aided her in a jump and she sprang from the ground, the coins shifting as her feet propelled her forward, her mind only too aware that her encumbered hands would be less accurate when grasping for a hold, but she grasped desperately anyway as her feet landed unevenly on the tiny ledge of some king's coat tails.

Lips pressed stubbornly together to prevent any sound, she teetered until she could hold herself evenly. Her face pressed against the warm stone, eyes closing as she leaned on the torso, so very grateful that she had not fallen back down to make the inevitable racket that would call him back. She pointedly ignored the layer of ash dust dirtying her toes and fingers in favor of looking above at her destination. She had to make it up to that crowned head or her effort would be for nothing.

She glanced back the way he had gone, listening for even slight sounds to offer signs of his return, knowing how silent he could be when he wished. She might not hear him when he returned but she would try to listen for any hint of him. Waiting would do her no favors though and swift action would. She she slatted her fingers into any hold they found, curling her toes into every crook of the arm or wrinkle in to stone fabric open the her. Her body still ached but she forced it to obey her instruction. The shackles at her wrists dug at her every move and the chain she coiled around her arm was sure to leave near permanent marks where she had to rest her weight in it to pull herself up but that too would be ignored. Once on the shoulder it was nothing to leap onto the head and she could not restrain the sigh of relief as her feet adjusted.

Crouching down to make herself as near to invisible as possible, her nervous, earth tone eyes swept the expanse of space but she returned warily to her task once satisfied. The fast beat of her heart would eventually calm once the task was done. Being chained made everything just a little harder, causing her issues at each turn but her fingers dislodged the buttons of the dress and she dug under the shift which had been easier to do in the kings pieced together garments. Once she had been forced to shed her own clothing she had tied the belt directly to her, hiding it under her shift in hopes that it would stay safe.

Her modesty was only a very minimum part of her worry in the water and for ducking lower and lower to avoid his eyes. She let him think her modesty the only cause for her fear but he should have known an elf always had many reasons for everything they did. Had he noticed the white fabric tied to her he would have investigated. If he had, he would have known instantly what she was planning. Thank the Valar he left the shift alone and let her have a blanket to cover herself! His minimal acts of hospitality might actually have been his downfall.

The scratched fingers of hers were made more clumsy by the pain of that climb, smooth carving or not, but she dug out a new stone and quickly wedged it into the crack between the old king's crown and the hairline of the wall. She stuck it as deep and tightly wedge as possible before she deemed it safe. A final frantic look about the room told her he was not yet returned and that left her free to distance herself from what she had just planted.

Of late, she had been taking quite a lot of dives from high places but she saw little choice now, so she simply pounced from her perch. The hot air flew around her but it did nothing to slow her fall and the impact came much too quickly. She rolled with a moan, letting herself slide off the hill of gold coins with little grace, distantly surprised by just how solid something so difficult to walk on could be. The elf allowed herself a fleeting moment to grimace and let her bones settle into place before she forced herself up. Stumbling and staggering in a hunched position she clawed her way into a corner to avoid a confrontation with the dragon should he rush back. 

Smaug did not gallop back suddenly, however and her nerves were fast acting. Her breaths drug heavily through her nose when she pushed herself farther away, unable to feel any form of safety so long as she was remotely near the stone. While she needed a few moments to recover from the pain in her joints it would do her no favors if he found it and she could not shake away the fear that he would. The worry made her unable to remain still. There was only one more stone to plant! She was so very close and she could not fail now.

Her motions froze as her eyes caught the gleam and glitter of something she recognized, a sad beacon calling to her with the residual magia linked into it and she padded gingerly closer. She ignored the tinkling of the coins under her feet now, deciding to allow herself to be distracted. Looking at something, anything at all, would make her seem less guilty even if her touching any piece of his treasure might anger him, so she would give in to her curiosity.   
  
Her bruised fingers lifted the dark wooden lid of the case away fully as she gazed at the white gems within, the marvels that looked like snowflakes and gleaming stars, knowing full well where these had come from. The necklace nestled in the midst of the jewels confirmed what she knew to be true. The Gems of Lasgalen. The sight made her close her eyes in a flinch. Seeing them made her somehow feel so much worse, violated in some strange sense. She traced the careful design and let her fingers trace through the lonely stones forsaken by light of day, feeling a slight tug in her chest of sympathy for the loss it represented as she picked up the necklace.   
  
Bitterly she realized the stories of it being stolen were true; perhaps even the stories that it had been stolen from the neck of the deceased queen of the Woodland realm. None could be sure, not when one part of the conflict lost his head and would tell no story at all in his own defense with that being the case. The dwarf king began such trouble over this piece of craft from her kin regardless. It should never have been kept from the Elvenking for it was too precious; a symbol of his people and the lost queen. Having it wither away in this place disheartened her and sickened her. Every corner of the treasure room reeked of the cursed sickness caused by gold and greed...and dragons.   
  
All of it sickened her. A piece of her kin being lost to this dark place; the curse; the death of men and dwarf for the possession of Erebor by a monster; and even the more recent deaths bothered her greatly. The mass amounts of suffering surrounding this one wretched mountain seemed the greatest symbol of waste and futility. Mortals held so tightly to things so lacking in value, such as this gold that would do nothing but rot in its own darkness, and for that worthless token thousands upon thousands lost life, limb, and home. There was nothing in that story that seemed at all right or fair and she could see why so many cursed the old king of the mountain. 

The coins rattled and shifted, alerting her to the fact that the self same dragon, chief of calamities, was returning and she resisted the urge to cringe and curl in on herself. She remained perfectly still as he slithered closer, scales catching in the treasure, steps heavy and far from soundless, until she felt his breath wash over her body and his muzzle touch her shoulder lightly. She found his nearness somehow disquieting even if she could not bring herself to fear it. She felt too hollow and numb to be frightened now and she thought it might be for the best, her minds instinctive defense to protect her from his keen senses that might give her away.  
  
He peered down at her wordlessly, blazing eyes alight with the torch blazes from around the room, and she instinctively replaced the necklace lest he be angered. Every movement was too stiff, her posture too ridged, and she knew she must be telling him of her treachery in all her body could not hide. Her face was a mask of calm indifference as he took a breath, inhaling everything she must smell of.

"An elvish piece, extravagant and intricate, still holding the smell of your kind even after all this time. I might have known you would find it." Smaug spoke the words into her back, making her internal organs vibrate unpleasantly with the low timbre of his voice.

Muilë nodded, trying with every shred of her self control to let her breath out slowly and keep from gasping out her own discomfort. "I know these stones, gems of the Woodland Realm. They are starlight."

The casual way he had with her before was gone, replaced by his baited words, "Of course you do. It was rather famous,  _if_ my memory serves me." He agreed, those smooth scaled lips moving slightly against her skin as he formed each word. "I suppose you desire it." The coins rattled and she knew without looking that his tail was slowly swaying.  
  
"No." she said honestly, "I do not." she was quick to inform, though her words were intentionally not rushed, "The memories within do not belong to me. I am only sorry to see it parted from its own."  
  
The deep, low pitched huff of breath was a laugh, she supposed, but it never sounded quite right with that glottal rumble he had, " _Ah_ , you would see it  _ **returned**_ to  _your people_.  _Is that it?_ " He took her silence as an answer and huffed his hot breath over her again, "I think not, elfling."  
  
Once again he shifted, pitching his body low as he eased down and into the coins like easing into water. Her own small form was lifted up as if driven on a wave, but unlike water, it remained and held her there. Every muscle in her body wanted to flee when she felt it all shifting and moving but she forced herself to remain stationary until it was stable even if she had jerked her knees to her chin without meaning to. The dragon made no comment on her display of weakness but his neck curved around her and his head came down to rest entirely too close, enough to feel the heat from those scales. The muscles in her jaw worked and ground together as he spread his wing out to the side, claws sinking deep into the gold beside her. He had actively trapped her in a little circle of his own making and her mind railed against the sensation of being caged but her body did not so much as twitch.  
  
Tense as she was, it took her a beat to notice that three apples hand rolled beside her and she stared at them as if they were some dark creature sent in addition to the dragon.  Smaug said nothing, settling himself in and going so far as to close his eye, which oddly irked her and made a few very foolish ideas bubble up in her mind. Though she might wish to, she was not foolish enough to attempt any of her momentary little fantasies of making attempts on his life for the insult she felt at his not even feeling he had to watch her while she was so near. If she  _had_  a blade she would stick it right between his closed eyelids and shove, see how he took  _that_!   
  
Eventually she shoved away the irritation enough to pick up the first apple and promptly devour it along with the other two besides. Though she stubbornly refused to admit it, her stomach longed for more once she was finished eating everything but the seeds and stems, tucking those into a pocket of the dress for safe keeping. She was an elf, made to exist on less if needed; though periods without were often broken with feasting; she would endure.  
  
The two of them remained as they were, silent and unmoving, but Smaug cracked his eye open after some time. Muilë gazed into his luminous eye without hesitation,  _daring_  him to take some sort of action. Most might fear the dragon-spell but such tricks did not work on her people so far as she knew, though long exposure to the beast might prove strong enough to penetrate her natural immunity. None had yet tested such a thing. Perhaps the little flashes of desire to do him great harm in violent manners were some sort of beginning stage. Then again, perhaps not.  
  
"Would you like me to return you to your room? I would be only too happy to escort you if you are tired." His voice was lackadaisical but she was not fooled in the slightest.  
  
Ah, no, that was where those violent thoughts stemmed from, now that she thought of it.  
  
"I am quite comfortable here and I am not yet tired." She dipped her head in a slight bow to hide the way even thought of returning to that dank and dark place made her cringe, "But I thank you for your concern,  _my lord_."    
  
He hummed something in his throat that might have been words but were not intelligible enough to make out.  
  
The elleth did not relish being trapped beside his jaws and his claws but she would take it over the cell he forced her into. The mildly offered threat was rather lackluster anyway in light of his current size being incapable of even slithering down the narrow passageway to reach the dark little room so she believed it was offered to perturb her more than anything. It did serve to aggravate her already fraying nerves so far as it related to her tolerance of him. So long as he was in this form she was relatively safe from that room but not his uncouth company.  
  
The overgrown snake was as much relaxed atop his horde as she might ever have seen him. Though still defined under his scaled hide, those muscles were lax and he seemed very nearly boneless. Even the tight featured in his chiseled from stone face were smoother. In the past it might have shocked her to see him so at rest and peacefully unaware, but she had learned never to rely on the stability of his moods for the were swift in changing.   
  
His kind were cruel and dangerous but they were beautiful. If not being destructive they were easier to admire. The torch stuck near one of the only pathway of stone not utterly submerged in gold cast shifting and haphazard light over his smooth scales. They reflected the light and swirled it about his body to add in color his own as well as gold tints from his bed. Even his polished claws seemed more alive, reminding her for black pearls... pointed black pearls.  
  
With nothing more than the spines along his skull perking up to serve as warning or preamble Smaug once again broke her from her contemplation, "I cannot help but wonder over your feelings on your current situation." He hardly seemed to be speaking to her and yet his eyes was focused on her to gauge every potential twitch; the closer he was, the more intent he was on catching her reactions, she had begun to realize, "The animosity and past strife with children of Eru Ilúvatar, the grand  _Minnónar,_ and of Vala Aulë is well known, so I sometimes wonder how it feels to know that your final resting place was crafted by the hands of those once considered a vial enemy."

The very essence of his tone told her she must be careful how much she said; unfeeling, unperturbed eyes fixed on his one with intentional laziness, "You speak of times such as Doriath and the Dwarves of Nogrod... but those battles were long ago. My people remember much but we hold no grudges over the dwarfs of this age. Those that warred with us are dead."  
  
The noise he made was likely some form of chuckle, "Yet the strife remains between peoples. As you said,  _Eledhrim_  have long memories, and though they do not live as long, so do Khazâd... or  _Casári._  You count each other enemies."

Muilë struggled suddenly with the urge to smile, knowing it would irk him if she allowed it. The great and prideful dragon was trying to impress her, she could tell it by the way he flaunted his knowledge and the use of various languages including Quenya. She was slightly impressed but she would never let on, so her features remained wholly relaxed with no hints of humor. She did however flutter her eyelashes at him innocently. His bravado sometimes reminded her of a bird fluffing its feathers to show itself off. So very prideful, and also very pompous and needy. Smaug, for whatever reason, ones she could not guess, was trying a little too hard.  
  
Dragons... He appeared so honestly interested in her feelings but there was more to it than that.  
  
"Some hold to the grudges but others have let such things fall away. Perhaps trust will never again be established as continual rifts arise, but we are not at war." Her eyes drifted up into the darkness above and to the very farthest reaching of stone overhead, "I suppose, in truth, we neither have forgotten nor do we chose to hold on to the wrongs of old, but we also hold more indifference than love. Indifference, however, is not hate."  
  
"So you set the past to rest." Smaug mused slowly, though he eyed her quizzically, disbelieving, "You and your kind do tend to be avid supporters of the humans, however, it seems. Men in their weakness draw forth compassion, is that it? You would taken human allies before the dwarfs most often, yes? Though they are weaker and more easily slain?"  
  
She inclined her head, offering no answer.  
  
"Why do you side with the  _ **weaker**_  over the  _slightly_  stronger if not for a grudge? Are  _all_  your people so full of compassion that they simple  ** _cannot_**  leave humans to wither in  _their own_  folly?" Those spines seemed to flutter up and down with his every word the more his emotions laced into them, though how she could read anything from that was still a mystery. "Must you all save them out of  _sentiment?_ " Whatever it was, the heavier tone of his voice indicated he was nearing the meat of the matter and she would not allow it.

  
She would let him hold the conversation hostage no longer for it would soon stray to more about her people, and she was unwilling to offer him that, "Tell me, Smaug  _Urulokë,_ what grudges have  _you?_ " She turned, shifting over the gold to look him full on in the eye.  
  
His shoulder blades shifted and he sank himself deeper into the coins almost as if he were retreating slightly, those spines flattening to lay against his neck, "I have none to speak of. Such triviality is beneath my interest. I wish only to be left alone with what is mine."  
  
Her chin lifted in a spark of momentary irritation - alone with what he stole, he meant - she quelled it swiftly, "You seem to hold hostility toward  _many peoples_ , from what I have seen. I have yet to hear you speak of a single race you hold even moderate compassion for or respect. Surely there is reason for that."  
  
"Unlike you," he sighed rather dramatically, actually rolling his eyes upward for a moment in a very human show of annoyance, "It is not that I view them as  _enemies_  - though technically we have been viewed as enemy to  _all of Arda_  since Ancalagon the Black allied with Morgoth, therefore I  _should_  be the wronged party, that is neither here nor there - I am not prone to bouts of  _ **irrational sympathy**_  for beings  _lesser_ , weaker, and of utterly lacking value compared to  _my own_. They have no value, none of them do and that is where my animosity lies. I have no reason to  _protect_  those I could  _end_  with a single claw whereas you have an inexplicable leaning to sentimentality and mothering of those you rightfully should lord over. It is different."  
  
The  _wronged_  party?  _Surely_  he had not spoken those words! Oh, but indeed, he had. A lilting little giggle escaped her well before she realized it was bubbling on the edge and she quieted it swiftly, closing her eyes a moment to compose herself and avoid seeing his rage. Seeing a blow coming would no more save her than not, so she simply lowered her chin to hide the residual smirk. Even with her eyes closed she could feel his body tense as tightly as it might ever have been before and she would swear he had stopped taking breath.   
  
That thought made her stomach drop and her eyes snapped open and to him, expecting to see fire spew from his jaws when she did. But no, he had not so much as twitched, moving his head and nothing more. In fact, he was only staring, eyes impossibly wide, slit pupils blown wider than she thought normal. This close she could see all the nuances and color shifts of his eyes, even hints of those veins in the nictitating membrane when it slid froward to obscure them in a quick blink, further indicating his surprise. He was facing her fully now, jaw slightly slack in something of a comically exaggerated shock and perhaps some hue of confused interest.  
  
It nearly drew a second laugh from her but she caught hold of that one and simply shook her head at him, marveling silently over just how twisted his thinking was if he believed those words of his. His view of the life was of considerable lack of any real understanding of the world. These glittering and molded bits of rock were of such value to him rather than any form of life. Compassion was unknown to him as was any way for him to understand the emotion behind it. Could he not see the value in company at the least? His were the words of a creature that had never loved or been loved by any.   
  
"Have you never looked into the sky and simply basked in the light of the stars, or gazed over a field alive with color and living things to take joy in the vast world around you?" The quiet gentleness of her voice surprised even herself, but she did not make an effort to change it, "Did you never quietly watch a young bird take flight for the first time and rejoice with it for its victory? My dear Smaug, it is the  _small_  things of  _little importance_ , the things we ourselves hold no influence over that make each day special... and if using our power to help those with less power, be they human or beast, in turn makes us weak... so be it."  
  
If it were even possible he seemed all the more shocked, utterly out of his depth. The nictitating membrane blinked at her several more times as if he thought to clear his vision without actually closing his eyes to look away. The look in those eyes was full of confusion and no small bit of wonder, as if such a simple thing had shattered the world underneath him. Something about the way he looked at her, the depth of his eyes perhaps, made him seem nearly vulnerable. He did not understand, and somehow that stirred her heart. The humor she felt was gone, replaced by a cold sorrow settling around her heart. The elleth pitied him, the great monster of nightmares, for the first time since she met him, for his was a life of hallow joys. To exist as such was similar to never living at all.

Muilë slid to her feet, a sad smile curving her lips without her knowledge, "If I die here, in the halls of the dwarfs... fading as I lived, then I shall pass into the Halls of Mandos with no regrets." She reached forth, fingers splayed between his nostrils and she rested them there carefully, and he was utterly still beneath her touch, taking not a single breath, "Perhaps, one day you will come to understand."  
  
Her hand slid down his snout and over the small, smooth scales compiled there, stopping just before his lips to drop it back to her side. When she slipped under his jaw and glided away from him to traverse the shifting hills of gold, he made no move to stop her. He allowed her to leave, making no move to hinder her though she expected him to and knew he watched her every tiny step. It was surprising that he let her leave, that he did not stop her meandering about his kingdom aimlessly, but she could not think over why he did so. Quietly and carefully, she made her way through the grand and deathly halls until she eventually returned to the room he first offered her, as if her feet had memorized the way even though it had not been her destination.

Her lashes fluttered together and she closed her eyes against the strange sting of weariness she so very rarely felt. The breath she took was unsteady before she held it and let it out again slowly. The anger was gone, for the moment at least, which left her unsure and unbalanced. So much of her dealings with him were anchored in anger; without it she did not know how to deal with him. She pitied him, and that thought was the only one she seemed capable of entertaining even as she walked through the old king's doors. It shook her to the core somehow and she felt inexplicably sad and hollow and guilty.

In all her time spent within the caves of Erebor, not once did she expect to find it withing herself to feel anything but loathing for the monster that slaughtered so very many, and the fact that she did so now seemed a treacherous betrayal to every life lost. Compassion came easily to her but some part of her tended to draw a strict line, Orcs being well on the other side of it, and creatures suck as a dragon falling there as well. But now she felt sorrow for Smaug, for the life he had lived, for all he had never felt or been, or what he did not understand he was missing, and she felt so very ill.  
  
Perhaps she had lied. There might be one regret she would pass from one world to the next holding within her spirit. The exact nature of it was still just a little out of focus, but it cut away at her heart like a wound all the same. It was a nameless thing. Guilt perhaps, for what she would later do, or for allowing herself to show to him what he showed to none. She knew not. Settling dazedly on the great bed was a relief to her shaking legs but not to the cold dread within her chest. Now, she wondered exactly what Lord Elrond would say to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khazâd is Dwarfs in Khuzdul... or Casári in Quenya.
> 
> Minnónar means Firstborn in Quenya which is what Elves are called. Eledheim is also a word for the elves.
> 
> Eru is the creator with particular ties to waking the elves while Aulë (also called Mahal) is tied to the Dwarfs.
> 
> Urulokë is the singular of Urulóki meaning Fire-drakes.
> 
> If you wanted to know.


End file.
